


One Way Love

by meadea



Category: TREASURE (Korea Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Heavy Angst, JiKyu, Kissing, Love/Hate, M/M, Park Jihoon (Treasure) - Freeform, Park Jihoon (Treasure)/Kim Junkyu, Park Jihoon&Kim Junkyu, Swearing, Unrequited Love, kim junkyu - Freeform, treasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:48:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26927632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meadea/pseuds/meadea
Summary: Junkyu is only realizing that what he and Jihoon have has slowly turned into a love-and-hate relationship, if he can even call it that. But whatever it is, it's eating at him. It's almost becoming a poison. He knows it's time to leave. And now he thinks he's ready. But he finds himself in a conundrum as he also realizes that he feeds on this poison.
Relationships: Kim Junkyu & Park Jihoon, Kim Junkyu/Park Jihoon
Comments: 110
Kudos: 156





	1. The First of Fights

The door on Treasure Café burst open and out a guy on his late twenties so furious he tripped over the small trash bin just beside the door, spilling its contents. A couple of strangers saw this as they walked past the café and our guy cursed into the night, pulling his jacket tighter around his body. He shivered. He could feel his eyes begin to well. The door of the Café opened again and out another guy a few inches taller and with a slightly bigger build than the former.

"What the hell, Junkyu?" he said, walking up to our guy.

That was all it took for our guy Junkyu to lose it altogether. He covered one hand over his eyes quick enough to hide the tears but he was sobbing at this point, frustration taking its toll. He ruffled his hair and pressed down his bangs to his forehead in an attempt to shadow his eyes.

"Fuck. You fucking bastard."

The other guy was taken aback. Never had Junkyu used such language, not in the six-month they had been together, in fact never to anyone, as far as he could remember.

Realizing he was embarrassing himself in public, Junkyu huffed. He was a little bit breathless, but he wiped his tears dry with his hands, then with his hood. He bit his lower lip to keep it from trembling and pulled himself together. His mind was racing with things he could and wanted to say to Jihoon but if he so much as speak, he knew he'd start crying again. He let his exhaustion engulf him. He was done for the day.

"I'm goin—" he hiccupped, "I'm heading back to the apartment."

A moment. No reply. He wanted to cry again. A taxi in sight, he took a deep breath then hailed the cab. The taxi pulled in front of them. Despite Jihoon's silent treatment, Junkyu still managed to say goodbye before getting into the cab. He looked up when something or someone kept him from closing the door. Jihoon got in and Junkyu, though still surprised, didn't have a choice but to scoot over.

" _Petersons_ ', please," he said to the driver.

"Where in _Petersons_ ', sir?"

"Across the convenience store?"

The driver nodded then took off.

Junkyu leaned back; his face averted from Jihoon. He kept his gaze to the window and watched the lights blur into small and big dots. Not that he was expecting Jihoon to talk, not really. Jihoon fought fire with fire. Like always. The very reason Junkyu had stormed out of that coffee shop in the first place.

They had never argued, publicly or just together. Now that Junkyu came to think of it, they had never really fought. Maybe once, but that wasn't exactly a fight. Normally, when something was up, one just simply stopped talking to the other. Tonight's was the first. Words were involved—nasty at that, mostly from Jihoon. They were etched in Junkyu's mind now, and now that it's coming back to him, he wanted to kick Jihoon off the cab.

The quiet, painful drive to Junkyu's apartment took half an hour, thanks to the terrible traffic. Junkyu was thankful of the driver as well, who did not initiate a small talk and therefore impeded the possibility of having to hear Jihoon open his nasty mouth. Junkyu paid the driver and immediately stepped out of the cab. To his surprise, he heard Jihoon do the same. The cab took off.

Scowling, Junkyu snapped at Jihoon, "What are you doing?"

Jihoon's smug face turned to Junkyu and met his eyes. Junkyu rolled his eyes and looked away.

"I'm sleeping over," said Jihoon.

Junkyu ignored this and walked past Jihoon. He fumbled for his keys in his small messenger bag. He felt Jihoon behind him and he had to look.

"Go home, Jihoon," he said, almost pleading. He wanted to curse himself for sounding the way he did and for saying Jihoon's name. Now he had stripped off of his angry façade.

  
_You're too polite, Junkyu, you just can't help it_ , Jihoon commented once. And this was not a compliment. They were on a flea market one day. An old woman came up to them to sell a piece of a mini sculpture which Jihoon thought was overpriced. As Jihoon was just tugging at Junkyu to walk away, the old woman started begging in the most dramatic way for Junkyu to take it. Junkyu had bought it in the end, and it had really pissed off Jihoon. But Junkyu never realized this was the case until that comment Jihoon had sent him via chat later that night. Junkyu couldn't remember what they had been talking about, but somehow Jihoon had managed to put that in. Junkyu had ignored it then, hadn't taken it maliciously.

Suddenly Junkyu felt a hand on his back. He shuddered at the effect, stood frozen in the moment, then eventually relaxed. He allowed Jihoon to very slowly run his hand up and down his back. Even with two layers of fabric on, he could feel the familiar warmth of Jihoon's hand. _The fucker just knows what to do_. The moment Junkyu had spoken his name, Jihoon knew it was his cue—his shot, and the manipulating bastard took it. This was Jihoon's way of apologizing, always had been. Small touches. That was all it took. Every damn time.

"Sorry."

Junkyu thought he had perhaps imagined it.

"Kyu, I'm sorry."

Junkyu turned to Jihoon and caught the familiar whiff of his cologne. His face was contrasted against the blinding lights of the convenience store across the street, but Junkyu still managed to look at Jihoon's eyes. He was not meeting his, and he almost was disappointed. But then Jihoon looked at him. He was tired. His eyes were droopy. Junkyu could tell his were the same. They were both tired. It was friday and they both had gone straight from their work to the coffee shop.

It was Jihoon's idea that they should meet tonight. They had not seen each other for a week. And Junkyu had missed Jihoon and had been looking forward to seeing him so he hadn't thought twice on cancelling his dinner with his coworkers. And when Jihoon had called him, it had seemed he'd had a bad day, whether at work or with his parents (yet again), Junkyu had no idea, but he was willing to be just there with and for Jihoon.

When Junkyu arrived at the coffee shop, Jihoon was already there, and Junkyu could tell just by looking at his face that he was not his usual sunny self. But Junkyu was prepared for it and for the next full-hour had taken the initiative to lighten up the conversation. However, as Junkyu was talking about his least favorite coworker, Jihoon had suddenly snapped.

"You're just being overly sensitive, Junkyu," he had remarked, out of the blue.

"What?"

"This coworker of yours, are you sure he's really being offensive? You said it yourself, everyone's entitled to their opinion."

"Being homophobic is not an opinion."

"You should have just ignored him then. You're always letting this kind of people get under your skin. That's why they like to pester you."

"Why are you trying to turn this on me?"

Jihoon had started going overboard, lecturing Junkyu on how his being kind was a naivety, something which would always lead him to getting abused by others and taken for granted. Junkyu was in shock. Not only because of those words but because of that utter mockery Jihoon had in his voice. That was what it took for Junkyu to storm out of the coffee shop.

Now, looking at the man in front of him, he thought of the times when he and Jihoon were no more than just friends. Jihoon had said things that Junkyu did not like, but he understood him then. He had tried to understand where Jihoon was coming from, and that patience eventually paid off, because they became closer and he began to see a side to Jihoon that he had never seen the man show to anyone other than him. It made him feel proud. It was one of the grounds on which a whole new kind of relationship had blossomed. Junkyu had felt he had helped Jihoon grow. Or had he?

Junkyu took Jihoon's hand. He realized how much he missed him, how much he missed being held by him. Junkyu walked them both to a spot where he could see Jihoon's face more clearly in the light. Jihoon was looking straight at him, though his face was a blank. But this was classic Jihoon. Even when sorry, he'd always manage to keep his pride, and it always showed on his face, like a child putting on a brave act. Junkyu chuckled. Jihoon seemed surprised at this reaction, but then he smiled, too.

For a moment they just stood there, smiling at each other. This would always be the death of Junkyu. Jihoon's smile. Junkyu gave in and leaned in to give Jihoon a peck on the cheek. Jihoon was just leaning down to do the same when Junkyu put out his arm. Confused, Jihoon looked towards where Junkyu was waving it. He was hailing a cab.

"Go home, Jihoon," said Junkyu. He let go of Jihoon's hand. "Good night." He turned away and walked up to the gate. He felt his chest constrict at what he had just done. But enough was enough.


	2. Chasing Chaser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized after chapter one that I feel bad for having projected Junkyu and even Jihoon as slightly darker characters without giving any sort of warning. Sorry, guys! It’s necessary for the story(the slightly darker JiKyu), and it will be for the next ones. And also, in this story, Junkyu and Jihoon are portrayed as older than they are in real-life. And that they are not the Junkyu and Jihoon in a band that we know is Treasure, rather regular people. But who they are in this story is still heavily influenced by the real Junkyu and Jihoon, just. . . a little darker. But I have plans, so please trust me! Now you've been warned! (Slightly) Darker JiKyu ahead!

Unlike most people, Mondays never bothered Junkyu. In fact, he enjoyed the buzz that came with it, enjoyed the extra time the traffic afforded him for some _Me_ -time and music streaming. Most importantly, Mondays allowed him to get lost in the crowd and therefore keep the spotlight away from him. He had always been a shy person. 

“Timid, more like.” 

Junkyu started, as though waking up from a dream, surprised at hearing himself mumble. Self-conscious all of a sudden, he cast a quick glance toward the cab driver in the front seat. When he was sure that the latter hadn’t heard him, he let out a quiet sigh of relief and sat up straight. He looked outside the window, _Rubben Studdard’_ s _Superstar_ beginning to play on his ears. He turned up the volume and readjusted the AirPod on his left ear.

_Timid, more like._

Even he could hear Jihoon’s voice in his head. And now he was echoing him.

_How far had he gone? How bad had it all become?_

As _Studdard_ reached the chorus, Junkyu felt his eyes begin to water, but he was quick to sniff and hold more back, scoffing at himself for feeling ridiculously emotional. He skipped the song but was led only to another ballad. He searched for something upbeat and tapped play. He took a deep breath and blinked his eyes several times. None of these small, futile rituals helped wipe Jihoon's face in his head.

Junkyu leaned on the window with his head. He raised his phone to check the time: _6:18 PM_. He had left work about ten minutes ago. The cab was barely moving, and although the fare would probably cost Junkyu more than he spent on his lunch and dinner combined, he chose to think nothing more of it and let his eyes droop. He was sure he was just on the verge of falling asleep when he felt his phone buzz, thus cancelling the much needed nap.

Junkyu held up his phone and peered at the notification bar. Mouth agape, he looked at the screen longer than he would have, as if the name that flashed was Jihoon himself, that if Junkyu opened it, Jihoon would speak. _Snap out of it_. He let his phone fall on his lap. Fully awake again, he mulled over his feelings. How did he really feel toward Jihoon now?

A week had passed since the night of the _disavowal_. Junkyu had since regretted the way he had acted and had, the following morning, even decided to give Jihoon a call. To say what, he didn’t know. But as though saved by the bell, just as he was unlocking his phone, Jihoon’s caller ID appeared. It was at that moment that Junkyu stood at his room frozen, staring at Jihoon’s name. Junkyu had wanted to answer, but he hadn’t wanted to seem like he had been expecting Jihoon’s call, so he had ignored it, deciding he would pick up on the second call. But there was no second call.

It had irked Junkyu so much that he lay awake in bed for two hours that night before exhaustion finally overcame him. He hadn’t received any calls from Jihoon again the following days. Nor had Junkyu taken the initiative to return the call after that one time either. Both of them needed time for themselves, anyway, and besides, Junkyu had reached the point where he just wanted to be left alone.

Though who was he kidding, he had secretly enjoyed the feeling of having to be chased rather than do the chasing. For a change. And he had wanted more.

But guilt was a constant visitor, too. He could only imagine how much guts it must have taken Jihoon to make the first move. So foreign was the feeling for Junkyu that he had easily let pride get the best of him. 

But just yesterday evening, Jihoon had called again. With a clear head and the promise to be more reasonable, Junkyu had picked up this time. 

It was a brief, uncomfortable call, in which Junkyu felt a mixture of trepidation and relief. But more of trepidation. Jihoon had asked for them to meet. Junkyu had just been so eager to end the call as soon as possible, and also because he was haunted by guilt, that he had agreed. Before ending the call, Junkyu had told Jihoon that he would text him where they would meet and that he might not be available until Friday of this week. 

However, when the call had ended, Junkyu realized he didn’t look forward to the prospect of having to think of it until Friday came, so he had decided he would do it today, so he could also just get it done and over with. 

Now, surprisingly mildly unaffected by the prospect of Jihoon deprecating him for everything once they talked later, Junkyu wondered what the text-message contained. Probably just Jihoon telling him he had arrived at the meeting place. Or maybe he had backed out? On purpose? His way of getting back at Junkyu?

Unable to help himself now, Junkyu opened the message. The following text-message wasn’t what he’d expected at all. And he didn’t know if he should feel disappointed or touched.

_Kyu. Going to be late. Babysat the kid. Yoshi and Kay arrived late cos of traffic. Really sorry. OTW tho._

Junkyu knew who the kid was, and so were his parents. They were close-neighbor friends of Jihoon. A newly wed couple. Junkyu had met them a few times, when Jihoon would bring him to his apartment. He’d met the kid, too. An adorable, quiet four-year old boy, who, to Junkyu’s amazement, Jihoon was very fond of. 

As Junkyu gazed from the screen of his phone towards the city lights, he wondered whether Jihoon was lying. Which was absurd of him to think of. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. The babysitting. 

Junkyu recalled the first time he'd been brought to Jihoon's apartment. It had been the holidays. Jihoon had been talking about the kid right even before Junkyu had met him, and he had promised Junkyu that he was _gonna_ _freaking love him_. 

So excited was Jihoon that he had, without an ounce of embarrassment, knocked at his neighbors' door and offered to babysit the boy, so his friends could have time for themselves. Junkyu had been there with him. Junkyu had never seen this side of Jihoon. He was always too proud that he spoke minimally in front of other people, as though he was above them all, that whatever they had had to say was nothing of importance. He was like this even to those he used to work with. Even to Junkyu, on bad days. It was only later on did Junkyu learn that this was only a cover up to a shy, confused person inside. 

Taking a deep breath, Junkyu started typing a reply.

_It’s fine. I’m stuck in traffic anyway._

Junkyu looked up from the screen, realizing that so would Jihoon be. Which meant Junkyu would still have to wait. He tapped send before unnecessary malicious thoughts invaded his head. But he couldn’t help but think whether Jihoon was doing this all on purpose, to, again, get back at him for leaving him outside last week, embarrassing him.

Junkyu let out an irritated sigh, loud enough that the driver said, “Sorry, sir. It’s Monday.”

“Oh, no. It’s not—I remember I forgot. . . my lunchbox.”

Junkyu offered a gentle smile and quickly looked away to show that there was nothing more to talk about. 

Ten minutes later, Junkyu arrived at the resto-bar he had suggested. As he had hoped, it wasn’t packed with people yet. He took the spot where he and his friends usually sat when they went out for dinner. He had never come here with Jihoon. In fact they had never really gone out until very recently, the most recent being the one in Treasure Café, and the one Junkyu would much rather forget. 

Trying again to keep his head clear of spiteful thoughts, Junkyu decided to kill time by writing a draft letter for work on his phone. As he did so, his mind drifted to the times when he and Jihoon would order food and eat at either his or Jihoon’s apartment. This had always been Jihoon’s idea, of course, imposing that he preferred it because they could talk and laugh however they wanted and they could _Netflix and chill_. 

Junkyu had bought the excuse then, had ignored the lie, despite knowing deep inside that the real reason why Jihoon preferred staying indoors was because he still wasn’t comfortable with being seen with Junkyu in public.

Junkyu inhaled and arched his back for a stretch then refocused on his draft. He was halfway through it, nose almost rubbing on the screen, when he caught a whiff of an unmistakable cologne. 

Junkyu looked up to see Jihoon standing across him, pulling the chair so he could sit down. He had an awkward smile on his face and wasn’t looking Junkyu in the eye.

“That was fast,” Junkyu said, pleasantly surprised.

“Hmm?” said Jihoon, finally looking up and looking startled. “Ah, yeah. Yoshi let me borrow his bike.”

“Good for you,” said Junkyu kindly. He smiled a little to ease the growing discomfort on Jihoon, then looked down on the table so the latter could compose himself.

Secretly, Junkyu took pleasure at the fact that he still had an effect on Jihoon.

“Ordered something yet?” asked Jihoon.

Junkyu looked up again and he could see this time that Jihoon had regained his usual self, a sincere smile spread on his face. Junkyu smiled, or at least he tried, slightly shaking his head. “Not yet,” he said, as he stood up. “I’ll get us their special, would you mind?”

“No. But d’you want me to get it instead?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll do it.”

Junkyu walked up to the counter and ordered the resto-bar’s special. A _Dosirak-_ inspired food, except the contents were served on wooden plates and you could choose the side-dishes you preferred. He paid, took the receipt and serving number, then returned to their table.

Expecting that Jihoon would initiate the first word, like he had always had when the two of them met again for the first time after ignoring each other for weeks, nothing came out of him.

Although Junkyu could have simply led it, since he had a lot of questions ready on his mind, he kept his lips closed, looking instead towards the counter, making the impression that he was waiting for their order. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jihoon looking towards the counter, too, then would cast Junkyu furtive glances. Junkyu felt guilty for noticing it. But most especially, for enjoying it.

Junkyu looked down on the table, checking his phone for nothing. He threw one awkward glance at Jihoon and was surprised to catch him staring at him. It must have surprised Jihoon too as he looked away just as quickly. Then, probably realizing this was his cue, he looked back at Junkyu, saying, “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Junkyu snorted. “We talked last night.”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d cancel, like, last minute or something.”

Junkyu didn’t answer and looked down on the table.

“So,” said Jihoon, continuing, “I went to Yoshi and Kay’s and volunteered to watch after Iljoon. They had to meet a client together.”

“They don’t pay you to do that,” said Junkyu. And regretted it after.

Yoshi and Kay were both artists and had only started accepting commissions three months ago.

He heard Jihoon chuckle. “I thought it’d at least keep my head. . . I kept thinking you wouldn’t meet me.”

Junkyu swallowed and didn't say anything. This side of Jihoon he was showing was very unfamiliar to him. It made him feel giddy with delight. But at the same time, he didn’t want to get comfortable, in case the switch would suddenly be turned off and the nasty Jihoon was unleashed.

When Jihoon didn’t speak again, Junkyu looked up and said seriously, “When have I ever done that?”

As soon as the words were out, regret swept over Junkyu like an avalanche and he feared he had implied more than he ought to have and had therefore ruined the mood. But Jihoon smiled, this time looking down. Relieved and amused, Junkyu took the chance to study Jihoon closely. 

He realized Jihoon had gained weight, but in a healthier way, his forearms more beefy than ripped. His face was rounder, too, his neck thicker. He frequented the gym, Junkyu was aware. 

Which he wished he hadn't thought of because thinking of Jihoon being in the gym suddenly flooded his head with certain. . . images.

Junkyu felt a wave of sexual charge run through his body and so shocked was he at this alien reaction that he had to look away and let out a cough he didn’t know what had caused.

Now he could feel Jihoon’s inquisitive eyes on him. Unwilling to be scrutinized, Junkyu looked Jihoon in the eye and said the first thing that came to his mind, “So, why did you want to meet?”

This caught Jihoon off guard, and Junkyu had to guiltily watch his smile slowly fade into a thin line.

Junkyu cursed inwardly. He had imagined how this meeting was going to play out and had promised himself to be less sulkier. However, it seemed his patience for today was wearing off. He could see that Jihoon was trying his hardest, so he couldn’t help but feel like a jerk for acting this way.

Or maybe a part of Junkyu was enjoying this. A part of him was testing how far Jihoon was willing to take before he transformed into his true, nasty self. Then maybe, when Junkyu would prove once again that Jihoon was never the person he thought he was, it would be easier for him to end it all.

Junkyu watched as Jihoon licked his lips, looking down, evidently searching for the right words as if he was going to find it on the table. Junkyu knew he was being unfair, that he knew exactly why Jihoon had wanted to meet him. He couldn’t explain why he still felt the need to put pressure on Jihoon. But he also wanted to speak first, to relieve Jihoon of the uncomfortable experience, to apologize for the way he’d left him there outside, but . . .

_You’re too polite, Junkyu, you just can’t help it._

“You find a job yet?” Junkyu found himself asking.

Jihoon looked up, surprised. Then, the question sinking in, he answered, “Uh, not yet. But I have sent applications for, like, every single job I thought I could do."

Junkyu nodded, not having eye contact, “Yeah, just. . . be patient.”

“Yeah,” said Jihoon, “got that from you.”

Junkyu’s heart skipped a beat. _What the fuck was going on? What was Jihoon playing?_ Junkyu swallowed and ignored the comment. He was not dancing with Jihoon, whether he meant _it_ or not.

“Here’s our food,” said Junkyu, trying to be cheerful, like he had always had in the presence of food. When he looked at Jihoon for response, he found him staring at him with an odd look, like he found Junkyu funny.

Taking in mind to watch his words and his facial expressions (because he realized he just wanted this meeting to be not like the last), Junkyu displayed what he believed could pass as a smile. 

As soon as the food had been served, both started on it. They ate in silence. It didn’t call for words anyway. He could sense that between chews, Jihoon wanted to ask him something, to say something, and if Junkyu was being honest, he was willing to answer him, to talk to him. But nothing came.

When at last they finished, with Jihoon being first, they still sat in silence, Junkyu checking his phone, and Jihoon resting his back, staring into space, cleaning his teeth with his tongue. 

“You’re not talking,” said Junkyu, smiling.

Jihoon looked up, startled at this blunt remark, then smiled. He picked up his glass, tried to drink, then realized it was empty. The blush was unsuccessfully concealed. 

Junkyu suppressed a smile. He then watched Jihoon awkwardly decide whether to put the glass back on the table or hold it for the rest of his life.

“Do you need to pick up groceries?” Junkyu said. “Cause I do.”

Jihoon looked at Junkyu. “Sure.”

The two of them got to their feet and left the resto-bar. Outside, the night breeze was chilly. Junkyu crossed his arms, shivering. 

"Hey," Junkyu said, "your bike."

"Parked alongside the others," said Jihoon, "it's locked."

The two of them walked side by side, quietly. Jihoon had tucked his hands inside his jeans’ pockets. 

“It’s only Monday and you’re already out of groceries?” asked Jihoon, smiling.

Junkyu smiled but did not answer. _I’m trying to buy you time, asshole, for you._ Junkyu’s cupboard was stuffed with everything he would need for the next three weeks, or maybe longer than that. 

“I got something,” said Jihoon, slowing down, “for you.”

The two of them came to a stop. Junkyu looked at the box Jihoon had held out, then he looked at Jihoon’s face, under the warm light of the city.

In his head, the question went, _Is that for me?_ But he said, “What’s it for?”

Jihoon only smiled and stretched his arm to give Junkyu the box. 

“What is it?”

“It’s a watch.”

Junkyu’s watch was doing just fine, and since Jihoon was still unemployed, he wished he hadn’t bothered. 

Jihoon must have sensed this was what was going on inside Junkyu’s head as he quickly changed the topic and started walking again, leading Junkyu by putting his hand on Junkyu's back.

“Thank you for this,” said Junkyu over Jihoon, who had been just talking about the boy Iljoon, “Appreciate it. It’s not my birthday, though.”

Jihoon laughed. Just then, a car honked. They both stopped to look at the car that had pulled up by the curb. Jihoon looked at Junkyu questioningly. Junkyu stared back.

The window rolled over and a young woman stuck out her head. 

“Jihoon?”

Junkyu looked at Jihoon, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Is that you, Jihoon?”

“Yuna, what are you doing here?”

“Babe,” exclaimed the young woman. “it’s you! I thought you had an emergency appointment with your dentist? Is your tooth okay now?”

Junkyu answered for Jihoon, who had gone quiet.

“I _am_ his dentist,” he said, “he’s fine now. Then, turning to Jihoon, he said, smiling, “I’ll go ahead, Mr. Park.”

Junkyu walked away. When he was sure he was a good few feet away from them, he dropped the smile, feeling something that might just equal a toothache. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely feel guilty for subjecting Junkyu and Jihoon to emotional pain and suffering, but this I shall do. . . for now. ToT And yes, let's welcome Yoshi! More Treasure members to come hehe. Also! It was Jeongwoo's cover of Superstar that I was listening to when I decided to put it in this chapter but I couldn't mention him for reasons I'd rather keep to myself for now ><


	3. Waterworks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This gets very emotional. I think? So, I apologize in advance for those whose mood shall be ruined by this chapter T>T But the next one will be good, I swear, and you'll know why by the end of this chapter. Now, enjoy!

Rain and wind whipped against Junkyu’s windows, but he stared outside, unblinking, seemingly lost in a different world. If anything, the pattering sound of the rain provided a soothing background to his growing feeling of melancholy. Which was silly considering he was, at the moment, at a company of. . . a guest. 

Junkyu looked at the man sleeping beside him and experienced—he must have spaced out for so long that it came almost as a shock—a slight nostalgia. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he had seen Jihoon at this peaceful state, his face a painting of childlike innocence. Junkyu blinked and looked away.

He knew that if he stared long enough, Jihoon would sense it, as he had always had, like it was a secret energy that could be passed simply through the eyes, and Jihoon would wake up and find Junkyu watching him. Jihoon had always loved it, but Junkyu personally never liked being watched over while he was asleep, not even if it was Jihoon. 

Junkyu got to his feet and walked up to the kitchenette to check on his chicken soup. It had always helped with Jihoon’s hangover. There were ready-to-cook sorts now, of course, and Junkyu could have simply bought one from the convenience store across his apartment, but he had chosen to make one himself because he had wanted to have an excuse to be busy in case Jihoon woke up earlier and decided to put up a show filled with apologies and stupid promises. A continuation of last night’s.

Junkyu had had enough of all the drama. He had too much emotional baggage and all he really wanted right now was to just crawl in his bed and sleep. But obviously, with Jihoon around, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. 

On the bright side though, he felt relieved. What could have possibly turned his week sourly had at least been mitigated by Jihoon’s reckless drinking and his nerve to bang on Junkyu’s door in the small hours of the night.

_A blessing in fucking disguise._

At least now he wouldn’t have to swim the whole week and the week to follow through self-blame caused by the fact that while Junkyu was debating his feelings and enduring regret and guilt, Jihoon had been keeping himself busy. And at least Junkyu wouldn’t have to rack his mind on the fact that in spite of the uncertainties _this_ relationship constituted he had loyally devoted his time and effort to Jihoon, Jihoon, in the ready, had other. . . options. 

“Kyu?”

Junkyu jumped. Thinking quickly, he swallowed, giving the soup one last stir, before turning. He walked out of the kitchenette with an impersonal look, almost boring. 

“You’re awake,” he said and felt dumb. He was almost sure he’d lost his poise until he saw a disoriented Jihoon sitting up, wrapped up in a thick blanket, his hair tousled from sleep, and his eyes so puffy he looked like he had just been in a brawl. Junkyu tried hard to suppress a smile. 

Jihoon was not meeting Junkyu’s eyes. And Junkyu softened at the sight. Jihoon must have probably realized by now what he had done last night and how he had come to be in Junkyu’s apartment in the first place. After all, he hadn’t been blindly drunk as he had. . . _acted_. In fact Junkyu suspected that it was only to cover up his embarrassment because Jihoon did that all the time. He had this exaggerated way of talking or moving when he was about to get personal. But Junkyu knew, too, that Jihoon was smart and had as much self-control, so Junkyu knew that despite last night’s outburst, Jihoon had still had enough sense to have remembered what had happened.

“How are you feeling?” Junkyu asked.

At this Jihoon cast a quick glance at Junkyu, smiling feebly, then ruffled his hair. “Fine, I guess,” he said, which, obviously, was a lie. Then, evidently forcing himself to look Junkyu in the eye, he added, “Sorry for. . . bothering you.” 

“I have chicken soup,” said Junkyu, “if you’re feeling famished.”

Junkyu watched as Jihoon’s Adam's apple bob in his throat. “Actually, can I. . .” Jihoon gulped again, “can I have some water, Kyu?”

Junkyu, who had expected this, pointed at the glass of water on the bedside table. Jihoon, who saw it, embarrassedly reached for it with his right hand, making the blanket slide gently from his shoulder, revealing half of his nakedness. 

Junkyu averted his eyes. Jihoon had definitely beefed up, and it showed in his body. When Junkyu had undressed him last night, he was too furious to actually take notice. 

Without even realizing it, Junkyu looked again, letting his eyes roam freely on Jihoon’s improved physique. Then he caught Jihoon’s eye peering over the glass water, which the latter chugged hungrily. Junkyu looked on, willing to contest, because he didn’t want to appear guilty of having just been caught red handed. 

Jihoon capitulated, putting the glass back on the small table. 

“Chicken soup?” said Junkyu. 

Jihoon, with a rather dramatic effect, looked up and smiled at Junkyu, caressing his exposed chest. Junkyu almost rolled his eyes before turning, all while trying to deny to his body that whatever Jihoon just did worked and was now ingrained in Junkyu’s mind.

When Junkyu returned with the chicken soup and a cup of coffee, Jihoon was already sitting by the edge of the bed, topless, trying to put on his discarded shirt, which Junkyu remembered with regret he had thrown on the floor beside Jihoon’s shoes.

“That reeks of alcohol and sweat, you know,” Junkyu said, stopping Jihoon as he put down the tray on the table by the window. 

Jihoon, looking up, stopped.

“I’ll get you a new one,” said Junkyu, walking up to his small closet, “you have clothes here.”

Junkyu handed a long-sleeved yellow shirt. Jihoon took it but did not put it on. He stood up and walked to the table, sat down and started on the chicken soup. He finished it in no time without even stopping. 

“There’s more in the pan,” said Junkyu.

Jihoon nodded and got up, taking a sip of his coffee before walking up to the kitchenette. Meanwhile, Junkyu walked to the bed and was just about to pick up Jihoon’s old shirt when the reality of the situation and flashbacks of the events that had led them both here in the first place started creeping back, hitting Junkyu like cold ice.

 _They_ had all happened just last night: the meeting, the walk, the present. . . the mystery girlfriend. Yet, probably because Junkyu had been up for twenty-four hours now, it all seemed to be days ago. 

He had gone straight to his apartment last night, having hailed a cab as soon as he’d walked away from Jihoon. Before he’d gotten in, he could still hear Jihoon calling, gesticulating for him to wait. Junkyu had turned a deaf ear and bade the driver to go, who had seemed to have caught Jihoon’s gesticulating and had asked Junkyu if he was with him. The cab had zoomed past Jihoon’s girlfriend’s car, with Junkyu not even sparing a glance at Jihoon who had stepped out of the curb and away from his girlfriend’s car to try and stop the cab.

Junkyu snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Jihoon’s light footsteps. Junkyu turned to see a smiling Jihoon, bowl in hand and a spoon in his mouth.

“Feeling better now?” said Junkyu as he looked away, detached.

He heard Jihoon mumble an _Mmm_ , then, “Thanks, Kyu.”

_Thanks, Kyu._

Exactly the same words he’d said last night, as Junkyu, kneeling in front of a topless and drunk Jihoon, wiped him clean of sweat with a wet towel. He had gently took Junkyu’s wrist and had tried to pull him closer to kiss him, but Junkyu had resisted, stopping Jihoon by putting a hand to the latter’s chest.

When Jihoon had come banging on Junkyu’s door in the small hours of the night, Junkyu had been working at his laptop, unable to sleep. Junkyu had been so engrossed in his work that he had almost had a heart attack. He had sprinted to the door, knowing already who was behind it because he had listened to Jihoon’s voicemails just a few hours ago. 

_Kyu, we’re no longer together. Yuna and I. She’s just. . . she’s like that. . . she likes to. . . I don’t know, show off, maybe. Kyu, please pick up the phone._

_It was just. . . what we had. . . what I had with her. . . it wasn’t serious, Kyu. And she knew that. No, please don’t think I used her. . . we were just. . ._

“Playing?” Junkyu had mumbled to himself, finishing Jihoon’s sentence.

_Kyu, please. . . please stop doing this to me._

The voicemails ended there. But there had been text-messages, too, all of which Junkyu had read but had not replied to. As the night had progressed, the text-messages became more incomprehensible and senseless, at which point Junkyu already knew that Jihoon had been drinking. So when Junkyu had opened the door, he wasn’t all too surprised to find a hiccuping Jihoon trying his hardest to look sober. 

Jihoon had let himself in, and now that Junkyu thought of it, he pondered on reasons why he had let him.

He remembered that at that point, he had recalled one of Jihoon's text-messages which explained his aparently now defunct relationship with the woman named Yuna. She was a friend of friend's, he had said, and he had met her two months ago, during the weeks of his and Junkyu's _no-talking-fight_. 

_I know it's not fair_ , the text-message went on, _for you and her._ _It's all my fault._ _Kyu, you deserve to be mad at me._

The other text-messages contained more apologies and a list of things Jihoon swore to god he would do to make it up to Junkyu.

_As if all would just erase everything and appease him of his. . . mistakes._

But when Junkyu saw him outside his door, drenched with sweat and face messed by tears and sweat, Junkyu had wanted to see more, had wanted to know how sorry Jihoon was for everything. So maybe that was why he had let him in.

 _After all, Jihoon owed him his pain_.

When Jihoon had plopped himself down on Junkyu's bed, Junkyu had simply returned to the table where he pretended to continue working. He had already thought that Jihoon must have fallen asleep because he hadn't said a word, but when he'd turned he realized that Jihoon had sat up and was looking at him with half-lidded eyes.

Surprised, Junkyu had managed to say, with a tone of a false annoyance, "What's all this?" 

Jihoon had tried to stand, but he fell back. He had chuckled at his own drunkenness. Hiccupping, he said, "Kyu. . . Take care of me, please."

Junkyu had ignored him at first, turning yet again to pretend to be working at his laptop. But not five minutes later he had gotten to his feet and that was how he'd found himself stripping Jihoon of his shirt and cleaning him of sweat. 

"Thanks, Kyu."

"Are you really drunk?" Junkyu had asked, this time dabbing the towel on Jihoon's forehead. 

"No," had been Jihoon's reply with a throaty chuckle.

Junkyu had found this offensive. There he was, mothering Jihoon yet again, and Jihoon had the nerve to be playful. But then, even to his surprise, the boiling anger quickly dissipated. Though he wasn't sure if that was a good thing since it had been replaced by coldness that was about to wreck them both.

“The things you’ve said to me before,” Junkyu had said, unsmiling, “the hurtful ones, did you—do you remember?"

Jihoon had seemed lost, blinking slowly at Junkyu. But when Junkyu met his icy stare, only then must have the meaning of the words taken form and Junkyu had watched as Jihoon's already red face flush.

“Kyu, I—”

“Do you remember?”

Silence. Jihoon had looked like he was in agony, like the answer was choking him.

“Yes, and I’m—”

“Did you mean them?”

Jihoon had given him a determined look. Or at least he had tried. “Yes, bu—”

“Do you regret saying th—?”

“Of course, Kyu!” Jihoon's voice had raised in frustration, his head in a lazy bow, “I’ve thought about them every single day, and I—"

“Since when?”

Jihoon had looked like he didn’t know what to say to that, and maybe he really hadn't. “I know what you’re trying to d—”

“What am I trying to do?”

Junkyu, at this point, knew he was being unfair, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. He had almost been sure Jihoon was going to explode and would start screaming at him. 

But instead Jihoon had grabbed him and pulled him in a tight embrace. Eyes wide, Junkyu had not known what to do, feeling both embarrassed and confused. But as Jihoon hugged him tighter, his lips touching the under of Junkyu's ear, Junkyu had given in and had closed his eyes, enwrapped not only by Jihoon's arms but also the mixture of his fading cologne and the stink of alcohol.

Which, as of the very moment, Junkyu had again caught as Jihoon got to his feet with his now empty bowl.

Jihoon smiled shyly at him as he went to the kitchenette to get another. As he did so, Junkyu, now stooping down on the mini fridge, said, "There's a typhoon coming. You need to be at home before it hits. It's already hailing as it is."

Jihoon, who had turned as soon as Junkyu started talking, looked unsure of how he was going to react. Junkyu saw Jihoon’s Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"Yeah," he heard Jihoon say, "of course. Um, do you. . . Have you got an umbrella, Kyu?"

"'Course," said Junkyu, bobbing his head toward the right corner of the room where two closed umbrellas stood.

"Oh," said Jihoon, "great. Um. . . I'll. . . have one more of this." He forced a chuckle.

"Sure,” said Junkyu, “and you can take a shower before you leave. If you like.” 

As soon as Jihoon was finished with his chicken soup, he washed the dishes then went straight to the bathroom, Junkyu’s towel slung over his shoulder. Junkyu poured himself a glass of fresh milk, shivering as he took his first sip. He had taken a shower at seven in the morning, in spite of not getting any sleep yet. But he had run out of things to do, he could no longer think of what he ought to write, and he had thought taking a shower would freshen him up, clear his head. Now he genuinely felt tired.

Taking the remaining milk in one chug, Junkyu placed the glass on the table and sat on his bed. His eyes closed at the familiar feel of his bed and he let himself fall on his back, ignoring the smell Jihoon had left on his sheets. With the cologne eventually overpowering the stink of alcohol, Junkyu fell asleep. 

He woke up, eight hours later, with a headache. It was dark but for the small light pouring out from the kitchenette. As Junkyu blinked his eyes, he realized his neck felt warm. Then, as he stilled his breath, he realized an arm was wrapped around him. Very slowly, Junkyu turned his head and found Jihoon asleep, breathing on his neck.

“Jihoon."

Jihoon started. Dazed, he looked at Junkyu. 

“Why are you still here?” said Junkyu.

Jihoon blinked at him. “I. . .”

Junkyu got up. He pulled the curtain to see outside. The rain had stopped, but it was blowing.

“You should go,” he said to Jihoon, “before rain falls again.”

Jihoon was getting up, quiet.

Junkyu picked up the glass he had used this morning, opened the mini fridge, and poured himself another glass of fresh milk.

“Kyu. . .”

Junkyu paused. He wished Jihoon would stop doing that. He was only making things harder.

“. . . can’t I stay?”

Junkyu held back a sob. Before tears well up in his eyes, he turned to look at Jihoon silhouetted against what little light there was in the room. Grateful for the darkness though, Junkyu swallowed.

“Jihoon,” he said, his heart pounding, “I think it’s time we stop this.”

Even in the darkness, he saw Jihoon tense. And Junkyu, again, held back another sob. He felt his throat beginning to hurt. 

He heard Jihoon laugh shakily. “Ah, we’re both exhausted,” he said, “fine, I’ll leave now.”

Junkyu took another drink of his milk, then he turned away from Jihoon. He heaved a deep sigh. He listened as Jihoon walked to the corner of the room toward the umbrellas.

“I’ll return this as soon as the typhoon’s gone,” he said, with what Junkyu could tell a forced cheery voice.

“Jihoon,” said Junkyu, “we should stop. . . this.”

Jihoon stopped. He only stood for seconds, maybe a minute, then he said, “Stop what, Kyu?”

Junkyu didn’t miss a beat. “Us,” he said.

Jihoon was quiet again. Junkyu waited. He was looking down. If Jihoon took one more step, the light would reach his face, and Junkyu didn’t want to see.

“Is that what you really want, Kyu?”

“Yes.”

Again, a deafening silence. Junkyu thought he could now hear the wind outside.

“I’ll get going then,” he heard Jihoon say. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Junkyu watched him walk to the door. Junkyu was leaning by the table. When he looked up, Jihoon was holding the door, his body slightly turned toward him. Junkyu waited. But nothing.

The door closed behind Jihoon. Junkyu let out a sob. He rushed to the door. His hand shaking, he thought of opening it. He didn’t. Anger and frustration now taking its toll, Junkyu’s tears started rolling down, and with his back against the door now, he dropped to the floor.

Junyu was now sobbing incessantly. He held his face on both hands. He remembered his phone. He looked up and saw it lying on the bedside table. Kneeling, he reached for it. He started typing a text-message then hit send.

Junkyu buried his face on his knees, unable to stop himself from crying. A minute passed and his phone started ringing. The caller I.D. said ' _Big Brother_ '. Junkyu picked it up immediately. And as soon as he’d heard the voice from the other line, his crying intensified.

“Hello,” Junkyu sobbed over the mouth-piece, “Hyunsuk-hyung.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my lowrd! ToT It feels so good to have finally added Hyunsuk here. Not very present yet, but you wait for it. BTW, I have a new fic called IKSAN BOYS & u bet who's in that story. Pls do check it out. BC it's a fluff! Yay! And yes, I'm so hyped up by the upcoming comeback! Ahhh <3 So what did u guys think of this chapter? hihi pls do let me know! :)


	4. Big Brother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let Choi Hyunsuk's—and someone else’s (or is it?)—presence temporarily ease you of all the angst this story has put you through so far. But. . . um. . . don’t let your guard down. *dashes off*

Sunday evening found Junkyu sitting at one of the tables out on an open terrace of a popular pub, which he had heard many times but had never visited. As he waited, leaning his side against the aluminum railing and hugging himself from the cold night, he let himself admire the bulb-like appearance of the moon’s reflection on the glass table. He looked up. And as though it had been waiting for him to do so, a bead of rain water from one of the petals of a potted flower fell on the tip of his nose, tickling it. 

Junkyu tilted his head down in a start. With his index finger, he tapped the tip of his nose, then lightly scratched at it. Feeling foolish, he smiled to himself, keeping his head down as he did so.

With the chilly ghost of this afternoon’s downpour, Junkyu was thankful he had gotten into a hoodie with a small _Anime-_ ish koala print in the lower-center. Since he wasn’t the type to go out that much, especially into public places such as this very place, he had worried about overdressing or looking too casual. But as he scanned the huge open space and saw that the table occupants were mostly wearing plain long sleeve shirts and even hoodies, too, Junkyu felt himself relax knowing at least that he now blended in. Which was a relief. Just an hour ago, dread prevented him from coming here, having felt both embarrassed and guilty for dragging Hyunsuk in his and Jihoon’s stupid drama.

Four days had passed since the typhoon had hit the city. Luckily, it hadn’t been too strong and the city was able to withstand it until it left. It had lasted for eight hours, taking place on Wednesday morning, during which Junkyu was curled up in his bed like a puppy, too numb to actually feel the weight of fear the typhoon had brought upon the people in the city, or in his case, to pay attention to his clamoring stomach. 

“Hey.”

Junkyu turned. Choi Hyunsuk had always had this aura, a permanent glow about him that just made you feel like everything was alright, assuring you that there wasn’t a single fault in the world at all.

Seeing Hyunsuk’s familiar grin, Junkyu smiled. “Hyung,” he greeted, getting to his feet to hug the former. Junkyu had never figured it out but now he realized what Hyunsuk had always meant to him. An ally.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting, Kyu.”

“No. I just got here,” Junkyu lied. He had been sitting here for over half an hour now. He had left his apartment much earlier, expecting to get caught in the traffic. But apparently the cab driver knew his way to this place and had delivered Junkyu even earlier than what the latter had intended.

“Don’t lie,” smiled Hyunsuk. “You texted me an ‘ _OMW’_ like an hour ago.”

Junkyu forgot about that. He chuckled, blushing. “I like it here,” he said, “it’s cozy.”

“Yeah,” said Hyunsuk, “but it gets really clammy during the summer.”

“Hence, the terrace, I guess,” said Junkyu.

“Hence, the terrace,” Hyunsuk agreed, nodding as he smiled.

They then fell into a painful episode of silence, both looking around, the usual lines that followed the greetings left hanging in the air, both unable to address the elephant in the room. Junkyu, of course, felt the responsibility to talk first, since it was he who had needed _this_ in the first place, but Hyunsuk’s silence felt like a punch of discouragement, making Junkyu wonder if the older man regretted coming here.

A solid group of three, Junkyu, Jihoon and Hyunsuk had become tight, mainly because unlike Junkyu's past friendships, the three of them were all able to connect in a deep existential level, with Hyunsuk and Jihoon as the first people Junkyu had a serious and genuine conversation about dreams and aspirations with, and not just about who was the new talk of the internet or what brands were at the top list of the _‘Influencers’_ (though Hyunsuk did take interest at that sometimes).

Hyunsuk, especially, had a special place in Junkyu's heart. He and the former had been friends years before Junkyu and Jihoon had even met. As a matter of fact, it was Hyunsuk who had introduced Jihoon to Junkyu. And so it was probably the reason why, when Junkyu had told Hyunsuk everything four days ago, he had ceaselessly checked on Junkyu ever since, calling him or texting him. It was thanks to Hyunsuk that he had managed to live through the numbness of the succeeding days since Jihoon’s cold exit.

Knowing his _hyung_ , Junkyu reckoned Hyunsuk felt partly responsible for what had happened between Junkyu and Jihoon. And that made Junkyu feel uncomfortable. He himself had been on the receiving end of the blame, and he would never under his watch wish anyone, especially his friends and family, to experience it. So he pulled himself together, preparing to speak. But Hyunsuk beat him to it.

“Sorry, Kyu.”

Junkyu looked up, surprised. He let out a nervous smile, “What?”

Hyunsuk, who had arrived cool and collected, the very image of a brotherly friend Junkyu had always pictured him to be because that was who he was at his core, was now slumped in his seat, his face scrunched up in one of those childish grimaces he did when he was being genuinely scared of something. 

His mind temporarily drifting back to memory of a horror movie the three of them(with Jihoon) had binge-watched, Junkyu couldn’t help but laugh and repeat, “What?”

Hyunsuk leaned toward the table, smiling but looking unsure. “I’ve always thought you two could work it out. Well, not that—I mean. . .”

Hyunsuk’s evident struggle for words opted Junkyu to say, “Should we order?”

Looking up, suddenly alert, Hyunsuk said, “Oh. . . yeah. Yeah, silly me. Of course. Yeah, yeah.”

It was Hyunsuk who waved to a waiter and asked for the menu. The waiter, dressed in all black, walked toward their table and handed Hyunsuk a white Tablet. As Junkyu leaned to look, amused, Hyunsuk offered him the Tablet. 

Junkyu took it. “Is this. . .” 

“I told you,” said Hyunsuk, “it’s cool here.”

With his finger, Junkyu swiped from one picture to another, looking through the deliciously photographed dishes, wondering if each did taste as delicious as it looked. Glad now that the mere fanciness of the pub had at least lifted his spirits, he handed the Tablet back to Hyunsuk and let him order what he thought Junkyu would like since it was him who frequented this place anyway. Hyunsuk, with a smile, did as he was suggested, ordered something Junkyu couldn’t even make out at one hearing, then handed the Tablet to the waiter, who smiled as he walked away.

“You come here all the time, hyung?” asked Junkyu.

Hyunsuk smiled guiltily, “Well, not all the time. But it’s become my go-to place after every hard-day’s work.”

“How’s the studio?” asked Junkyu.

“Oh, it’s. . . great, I think. We have new clients coming in. They’re getting much younger.”

“Yeah? Isn’t that a good thing, though?”

“It is, it is,” said Hyunsuk, “really good dancers, at such a young age.”

“Like you were,” said Junkyu.

“Ah,” was Hyunsuk’s only reaction, though it was clear he was flattered. Then, looking Junkyu straight in the eye, he added, “We miss you there, Kyu.”

Junkyu smiled, teeth showing. “I miss you guys, too.”

“You know you can always pop in, right?” said Hyunsuk, leaning forward, looking comfortable now. “Shoot a performance with us or two.”

Junkyu nodded his head, smiling. But not wanting to encourage the idea, he didn’t say anything.

“How ‘bout you?” said Hyunsuk, “How’s work, Kyu?”

“Stressful,” said Junkyu, “but fun,” he wondered if he meant it.

“You’re a hard worker, Kyu.”

Junkyu chuckled. “As you are,” he said.

“No, really,” said Hyunsuk, laughing now, “you work too hard, Kyu.”

Junkyu laughed along, wondering how something not funny could be funny when it was with his _Hyung_. “Well,” he said, “that's the corporate world for you.”

“That’s what I’ve always told Jihoon,” said Hyunsuk, turning suddenly serious and no longer looking straight at Junkyu, “keep you. . .”

“Sane?” Junkyu finished, surprisingly managing a laugh. Hearing Hyunsuk bring up Jihoon again had almost put him off, but also thanks to Hyunsuk’s contagious energy which had rubbed on Junkyu and which Junkyu had managed to maintain, Junkyu felt less uptight now.

And Hyunsuk must have felt it, too, because he looked up at Junkyu, looking somewhat surprised, then let out a chortle. Now Junkyu was sure and satisfied that the tension was gone.

“Well,” Junkyu went on, still smiling, “he’s only managed to stress me out even more.”

Hyunsuk laughed. "True," he said, "well, he's always been a wounded puppy, that one."

Junkyu looked up at Hyunsuk in both surprise and admiration. Hyunsuk was never the type of person to take life so seriously, so he had never once vocally analyzed a person because he believed people were unique and should not therefore be boxed into one category alone. He had never judged anyone, maliciously or just jokingly. So hearing him address Jihoon in such a romantically metaphorical way, Junkyu couldn't help but laugh in amazement. 

And then, as though he wanted to live up to this new persona, Hyunsuk continued, without pausing and looking for Junkyu's reaction, in a long, emotional speech, destroying the barriers Junkyu was trying to maintain altogether.

"We met, Kyu," Hyunsuk began, "Jihoon and I. Two days ago. He dropped by the studio. He wasn't expecting to see me there. Same with me. I was checking on the studio. You know, the typhoon. But, yeah, he didn't want me to tell you, of course. That he came to see me. And I know I shouldn't. But I can't say I'm not mad at him for being a dick—" 

Junkyu could sense that Hyunsuk wanted to bring up Jihoon's cheating but he sensed, too, that the latter didn't want to make Junkyu feel uncomfortable. Though he already was, listening but not looking Hyunsuk in the eye.

"—but I. . . you. . . I respect your choice, Kyu. It's a shock to him that you were willing to. . . That you didn't let him—" Hyunsuk laughed, "—you know, like, get away with it this time. You, who have always taken his side, always the bigger person. Made him feel—"

The Server had returned, with another Server, a woman, both balancing the trays on their hands. Junkyu helped the woman set hers by reaching to take a plate, then his Iced-tea. He saw Hyunsuk did the same, except he had two plates and two bottles of an unfamiliar beverage.

"Thank you," Junkyu heard Hyunsuk say, which he mimicked to say to both Servers.

Hyunsuk had forgotten to finish whatever it was he was saying that made Jihoon feel, because the sight of an abnormally big burger with stacking steaks and oozing cheese had obviously changed his mood and he was now too delighted that he had already taken out his phone and started taking shots of his plate. 

Junkyu chose not to probe and instead started on his Lasagna. Whatever it was that Hyunsuk and Jihoon had talked about, it was better that he knew as little as possible, because if he wasn't wrong, he could sense that, although Hyunsuk was being sympathetic toward Junkyu, he was also trying, without realizing, to explain for Jihoon. Which Junkyu totally understood and, somehow, appreciated, because it only proved that Hyunsuk would never backstabbed any of his friends.

“This is good,” Junkyu said, as soon as he had swallowed a spoonful.

Hyunsuk nodded in agreement, smiling with his eyes, his mouth stuffed. 

For some reason, Junkyu found himself looking back to his and Jihoon’s dinner just six days ago. The gift. The woman named Yuna. Drunk Jihoon. Then, even though Junkyu tried to shake it off by taking a big bite of his Lasagna and thinking of the ingredients that had been put in it, the memory of waking up to Jihoon’s arm wrapped around him persisted and Junkyu paused, staring into a space, thinking that what if Jihoon hadn’t stayed that night and had listened as Junkyu told him. If he did listen and left as Junkyu had wished, could they have prevented the ‘ _break-up_ ’ from happening?

 _Break-up_.

Was there really a relationship to begin with in the first place? Break-up from what? From taking turns in manipulating each other? Oh, so now Junkyu was finally admitting it to himself. That he was not just a piece in the game but was also as much of a player as Jihoon was. 

_How bad had it all become?_

“Kyu.”

Junkyu blinked, startled, thinking for a moment that it was Jihoon. He looked at Hyunsuk, then at someone standing beside him, smiling at him and awkwardly waving his hand. Junkyu stared for a moment, realizing. He broke into a smile.

“Yoshi!” he exclaimed, standing up. Jihoon’s neighbor smiled even bigger, slightly extending his hand, which Junkyu took as he pulled him into a quick hug, lightly tapping the other’s bag. “You’re here!”

Yoshi laughed, looking from Junkyu to Hyunsuk. 

“Oh,” said Junkyu, “this is Hyunsuk-hyung. He’s a best friend of mine and--” he tried to say it naturally, “--Jihoon. Hyung, this is Yoshi. They live next to each other. Jihoon, I mean.”

Yoshi shook Hyunsuk’s hand, who kindly offered him some of his burger, which was as good as nothing, since he had almost eaten his plate clean. He himself laughed at this. Yoshi laughed with him, thanking him while also kindly refusing the offer. In a way, this silly exchange elated Junkyu. It gave him that same feeling when you’ve just introduced a special friend to your parents.

“Yeah,” said Hyunsuk vaguely, but still laughing, “Jihoon talked about you guys all the time. I feel like I know you already, actually. Good to see you personally. In the flesh!”

“In the flesh,” Yoshi agreed, laughing, then he turned to Junkyu, “I actually saw you walk in, but you were on your phone and it was loud so I didn’t bother to call you, then I felt guilty.”

Junkyu laughed. “Are you with someone?” he asked, then wished he hadn’t. He realized he didn’t want to know the answer. 

“Yeah,” said Yoshi, tilting his head, looking into the inside of the pub, “I’m with Kay.” 

An image of Jihoon playing with little Iljoon flashed in Junkyu’s mind.

“How about Iljoon?” he asked anyway.

“Oh, he’s with mom,” said Yoshi, “she’s staying the night. We’re working on something, but Kay’s in charge, so it’s her who will be out with our partners.”

Junkyu watched as Kay waved her hand enthusiastically, smiling big. She came running toward them and Junkyu hugged her, introduced her to Hyunsuk and then all of a sudden they were saying their goodbyes because they were with other people and they needed to leave. 

Junkyu returned to his seat and ate some more Lasagna, all while trying to provide details about Yoshi and his wife that Hyunsuk’s questions required. Junkyu tried to answer, of course, with an effort to avoid focusing on Jihoon and more on Junkyu’s short but meaningful encounters with them instead.

But as he finished his Lasagna and waited for Hyunsuk to finish as well, who had now moved on to his slice of pizza and his second bottle of what Junkyu assumed was some kind of a rice wine, he thought of Yoshi and Kay’s relationship. They had the relationship Junkyu aspired to have. They were committed to each other, and they were committed to their work. And it seemed that even though they had started living independently, their family still got their back. 

Junkyu thought of his own mom. Which also made him think of his younger brother. Which made him look at Hyunsuk. Junkyu smiled, sadly.

Junkyu heaved a sigh, sitting straight. Then he looked at Hyunsuk.

“I’ve missed you, hyung,” he said, smiling. “Thank you for—”

Junkyu thought fondly. What was he really thankful of Hyunsuk for? Too many to pick one. So he chose not to finish his sentence and just let his smile tell Hyunsuk the rest.

Hyunsuk, mouth stuffed, made a childish crying face. He put down the remainder of his pizza, then slapping his hands free of crumbs, pinched both sides of Junkyu’s cheeks.

About fifteen minutes later, Junkyu and Hyunsuk left the pub and walked leisurely to the parking lot. Hyunsuk had offered Junkyu a ride, which the latter had accepted. It was chilly outside but Junkyu let it envelope him, looking up and closing his eyes as he walked. Hyunsuk found this amusing, laughing as he reminded Junkyu to watch his step. 

Laughing, Junkyu squinted as he opened his eyes, surprised at the attack of lights from nearby stores. He blinked, seeing only green dots at first, then eventually readjusted them. He tripped.

Hyunsuk exclaimed, then he laughed out loud. Junkyu had stepped on the lace of his shoes. Laughing, too, Junyu stooped to fix it, telling Hyunsuk to _fuck off and go ahead_ as he did so. Hyunsuk did as he was told, keys jangling as he laughed his way to his car. 

When he was sure he had tied both shoelaces securely, Junkyu straightened up, pulling on the hem of his hoodie. Then he saw _him_. 

Just across the street, sitting beside the wide glass window of a diner, sat Jihoon, alone, both elbows resting on the table, his face serious. Junkyu blinked to make sure he was seeing the right person. He was. And just like that Junkyu’s heart began to race. He suddenly didn’t know what to do. Then he saw _her._

Junkyu felt like a dart had just been pierced through his heart. But then, surprising even himself, his mind cleared. And he breathed. He breathed in. He breathed out. 

_It’s for the better_.

Sparing Jihoon one final glance, a small smile crept on Junkyu’s lips. Then he moved on.

Meanwhile, in the diner, listening to Yuna talking, Jihoon laughed. Then, as Yuna started looking for something on her phone she wanted to show him, he stole a chance to cast a secret glance toward the street. He watched as Junkyu walked away, who he was aware had been looking at him just a while ago. Jihoon swallowed, then looked away, trying his hardest to ignore the tightness in his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s time we hear Jihoon’s side of the story, no? 
> 
> U guys tell me.
> 
> Do you know who’s Junkyu’s lil bro tho? Of course he’s from Treasure! And if you have really paid attention, I think it was obvious who! XD No, don’t read back. He’ll be here soon anyway. What u should do is check out my new fantasy JiKyu fic called 'Gone Spirit'.


	5. Fire with Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, thank god this chapter is told from Jihoon's pov bcos after that episode with Line Friends, MC Junkyu was just too adorable I can't even
> 
> Now now! I think ur going to need a bag of chips for this one u guys. It's quite a lengthy chapter, bcos first of all, Jihoon has a lot to say. And scondly & lastly, ur in for a party.

His heart beating faster by the minute, Jihoon went through Hyunsuk’s text-message in his head again and again. He was staring into space. Then, blinking, he snapped out of his reverie to read it again. 

_Chrissake bro, be a man! I luv u!_

Reaching a decision, Jihoon sprang to his feet, the beanie bag he’d been sitting on inflating as he did so. He undressed himself, shooting his shirt into the laundry basket and, shirtless, sorted through the unfolded stack of clothes on one side of the settee where it was massed like a mini mountain. He picked up a puffy crew neck lemon-yellow sweater he had worn on Junkyu’s birthday. But then as he put it on and stared at his reflection in the mirror, he wondered whether he was being too intimate when he only planned to come solely for the purpose of showing up and not to stir up old memories like a sad romantic.

Jihoon sighed, then took the sweater off. Glancing toward the stack of his clothes, he decided he would wear a plain white T-shirt and on top of it, a blue-black denim jacket which he unhung from his closet as soon as he had put on the shirt.

He returned to study himself in front of the mirror, slightly red in the face. He ruffled his hair, licked his lips, then realized he needed a splash on the face. He walked to the bathroom to wash his face carefully so as to not dampen the collar of his denim jacket and his shirt’s neckline. When he was satisfied, he wiped his face dry with a towel then returned to check himself in the mirror. He picked up the cologne sitting on a small hanging shelf and sprayed himself some, trying not to think proudly that he knew Junkyu loved it. Setting it down, he collected his phone and wallet then closed the door to his room and locked it.

Before heading down, he knocked on Yoshi’s door. 

“Hey, man,” greeted Jihoon as soon as the door opened.

“Hey, Ji,” Yoshi greeted back, pleasantly surprised. “What’s up—sorry I have to keep it down. Kay’s putting Iljoon to sleep.”

“Oh, sorry, man,” said Jihoon, “but yeah, I’m heading out. I was thinking if maybe there’s something you need? I can get it for you on the way back. Later.”

Yoshi looked surprised. Jihoon bit back the embarrassment. He watched his neighbor think.

“I don’t think so, man,” said Yoshi, “we just did grocery shopping yesterday. Where you going, by the way?”

Jihoon thought of lying but couldn’t think of anything. “Junkyu’s” he said finally, “his brother turns eighteen today.”

“Oh, yeah!” said Yoshi, looking like he’d just remembered something, “Totally forgot about that. He texted me last time. But obviously, we can’t come.”

“Yeah,” said Jihoon, who was now processing the fact that Junkyu had invited Yoshi but not him. It was the latter's brother who had sent Jihoon a DM via Instagram. “Well, I’ll go ahead then.”

“Yeah, thanks for offering, man,” said Yoshi.

Jihoon smiled, bade his neighbor goodbye then left, jogging downstairs. He had only wanted to have a back-up activity in case he chickened out and decided not to come to Junkyu’s brother’s birthday party. But if he did chicken out, maybe he could just treat himself out to a dinner. But that was impractical. He was unemployed and was trying, for as long as he could, to hold himself back from asking help from his parents. He still had enough to live by until he found a new job, but he still needed to be thrifty, because he had. . . plans. 

He had already made an impulsive spending last week, when he’d called Yuna for dinner outside. Looking back now, he wanted to kick himself for how immature and petty he had reacted when he had received Yoshi’s message that night, telling him that he had sighted Junkyu at the very same pub he and Kay were meeting with their friends. 

Jihoon, who had been dispassionately experimenting on baking a banana cake, had been thrilled by the mere mention of Junkyu’s name that he had become all of a sudden so keen on making sure that he got the cake to taste right, because he was thinking at that point of how Junkyu would react if he got a taste of it. Then, becoming restless as he waited for the cake to cook, he had imagined himself to be Yoshi, sitting there, watching Junkyu from afar. The image had been so vivid that, as soon as the banana cake was cooked, he had dashed to get dressed, having made up his mind. 

When he had arrived around which the pub was located—it hadn’t taken him long because he had visited it many times—he had chosen to hang around a corner where a small stall that sold fishcake and other sorts of street food was erected. He had been debating whether to show up to the pub or not, because the idea of doing so had presented not just excitement but also problems. First, he had thought of what it would make Yoshi think when he suddenly saw Jihoon there. Secondly, he had no idea what he was going to do once he’d seen Junkyu, and lastly, he had feared to learn who Junkyu was meeting. And with all these compounded, it had made him feel pathetic enough that he had almost screamed his head out right there in the darkness of the street. 

So he had done what had first come to mind: he’d called Yuna. And as though the universe was in it with him, when he had called Yuna, it had turned out that she was already out with her friends but she was still up for Jihoon’s offer anyway. Thus, the dinner.

Panting now, Jihoon stopped by the curb to hail a cab. It zoomed past him. He swore. Sighting another, he tried again and it pulled over. He hopped in, then wasted no time and stated the address, and then they took off. 

Jihoon willed his mind to think of excuses he could use when he got there. He was, of course, invited by Junkyu’s brother himself, Doyoung. And Jihoon had actually already declined and had kindly wished him a happy birthday in advance. But Hyunsuk wasn’t coming, too. And he was supposed to be. But he had been called by this celebrity’s team because it seemed they were planning on hiring him to choreograph the said celebrity’s dance performance for his music video, an opportunity which Hyunsuk could definitely not miss. So he had begged Jihoon to change his mind and come so as to not hurt Junkyu’s feelings because as the older man said it, _one of us has to be there!_

“Come on, man,” Hyunsuk had whined, “just come. Come as a friend. Just. . . show up. It’s a. . . gathering. It’s not like you’ll have to talk to Kyu all the time you’re there. You have a lot of strangers to run to in case it gets—I don’t know—awkward? For you,” this the older man had added with a laugh.

“Hyung, I just can’t,” Jihoon had said, massaging his temples, “you don’t understand, I—”

“Oh, please. Dobby invited you! Not Kyu.”

“Who the fuck is Dob—you know what, nevermind. I can’t, hyung. I’m sorry.”

“Yes you can.”

“Hyung, you’re asking for the impossible. I’m sorry.”

“Junkyu said he wished you’d come.”

That had gotten Jihoon to perk up. “Okay, you don’t need to make up stories now.”

“I’m not! Why do you think Dobby invited you?”

Jihoon didn't have an answer to that. He wasn’t that close with Junkyu’s brother. They had met only once, maybe twice, and they weren’t even friends on social media.

“Exactly,” Jihoon had said, ignoring Hyunsuk’s implications, “we’re not even close.”

“No, you’re missing the point!”

“No, I’m missing my favorite show, it’s on now—”

“You need to fix this, Jihoon,” Hyunsuk had suddenly sounded serious. “Stop being a crybaby and be the bigger person. For once. I hope you’d come. Sorry, I love you guys both. Bye.”

That had taken Jihoon by such a surprise that even when Hyunsuk had hung up, he still had his phone pressed against his ear. He had only snapped out of it when he felt it vibrate. And that was when he had read Hyunsuk’s text-message.

Hyunsuk had never so outspokenly expressed his sentiments about Jihoon and Junkyu’s relationship like that. When the three of them were in public and Jihoon disappeared to this other person every time he was with Junkyu and he would get overly intimate he’d forget Hyunsuk was there, Hyunsuk would never show a reaction about it. And that had always made Jihoon think that, although Hyunsuk knew about it, maybe he didn’t approve of it.

But then hearing Hyunsuk say those words. . . to hear him push Jihoon to chase after what needed to be chased, Jihoon felt like he had just been unloaded of a burden he didn’t know he carried. 

_. . . be the bigger person. . ._

Jihoon realized now that he had underestimated Hyunsuk and that made himself ashamed of himself. Hyunsuk had always known. It wasn’t his lack of comment or acknowledgement that had made him so quiet about it, bur rather Jihoon’s. 

It was Jihoon who couldn’t admit for so long that what he and Junkyu have was more than just. . . 

_I’m fucking in love with Kim Junkyu_.

Jihoon, fingers drumming on his knees now, remembered he needed to get Junkyu’s brother something. A birthday present would be too personal, not to mention, tricky. He hardly knew the boy. And Junkyu rarely talked about him, so Jihoon didn’t have the slightest idea of the boy’s preferences.

 _A cake will do_ , he thought, remembering his banana cake. 

And so ten minutes later, Jihoon was pressing the doorbell on Junkyu’s mom’s house, boxed cake in hand. He was welcomed by a stranger, or at least it was to him, but she was probably one of the Kims’ relatives—or close friends. Jihoon was let inside and was led into the dining room which was already swarming with guests. 

“Are you Doyoung’s friend?” asked the woman.

Jihoon didn’t know what to say at first. “Um, I. . . yeah. Well, I’m actually friends with Junkyu.”

“Oh! I see, let me call him for you. Shall I take that?”

Jihoon handed her the box of cake. 

“Thank you, so thoughtful of you,” said the woman, smiling, “I’m their aunt by the way. You grab something to eat while you wait, okay? Won’t take long. I think he’s in the kitchen.”

Jihoon nodded, returning the smile. Then he started looking around. He didn’t see any familiar faces. Licking his lips, he looked for something to drink—or rather just anything he could hold so he could keep his hands busy. His heart was now pounding against his chest. 

To his surprise(and dismay), it was Junkyu’s brother who Junkyu’s aunt returned with. She handed Jihoon the plate she was carrying. Jihoon took it, saying his thanks. She smiled at Jihoon before leaving him with her nephew. 

“Hyung, thanks for coming,” said the birthday boy, offering his hand, which Jihoon took to shake as he greeted happy birthday, “and thanks for the cake. You shouldn’t have bothered—but thanks!”

Jihoon laughed shyly. “You mean I could have brought something better,” he said, “but it was very last minute. I’ll make up for it this Christmas.”

“Oh, don’t bother, hyung. But yeah, I thought you weren’t coming. What changed your mind?”

Jihoon opened his mouth, but he didn’t know what to say.

“Oh, sorry, hyung,” said Doyoung, “you don’t need to answer that. You're very much welcome here. Junkyu-hyung’s in t—”

Someone had appeared behind Doyoung, a young woman, who he hugged. Jihoon assumed she was a classmate. 

“Hyung,” said Junkyu’s brother, “will you be fine here? Somebody’s already called Junkyu-hyung. He’s all over the place, that one.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” said Jihoon, “thanks for this,” he held up his plate.

“Yeah, have some more, hyung, see you later.”

Jihoon nodded, “Happy Birthday again.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Plate in hand, still feeling a little shy and reluctant to take a bite of his meatballs, Jihoon watched Doyoung leave and laugh with his female friend. When they had disappeared outside, probably to their other friends, Jihoon looked around him awkwardly, his eyes searching for a chair he could sit on. He saw one by the corner of the room and walked toward it.

“Jihoon.”

Jihoon turned.

_Junkyu._

Jihoon’s heart skipped a beat. “Kyu,” he managed, rather breathlessly, “hey.”

In an attempt to hide the little panic attack he was having, Jihoon transferred the plate to his other hand, then ended up holding it with both like it weighed more than it looked. He tried to look unimpressed.

“Come with me,” said Junkyu, giving him a business-like smile Jihoon had seen him give to a client, who he and Junkyu had bumped into a restaurant once.

Jihoon nodded, watching Junkyu’s back as he began to lead the way. Jihoon realized he had expected Junkyu to be surprised at least. And so the latter’s indifference was a little bit crushing, making Jihoon want to immediately leave the place.

. . . _be the bigger person. . . For once._

Jihoon huffed. He followed Junkyu to the back of the house, tracing the same way his brother and his friend had taken. It led to the Kims’ beautifully landscaped backyard, where some of the guests ate at the tables that had been placed there. Jihoon caught a glimpse of Doyoung who was now laughing with his friends at a much bigger round table.

“Your brother’s got a lot of friends,” said Jihoon, without thinking.

Thankfully, Junkyu only looked toward where his brother sat but did not indulge Jihoon’s comment. Jihoon swallowed. A few more steps and they reached an unoccupied small round table. Jihoon took the only seat available where his back faced the others.

“Suit yourself,” said Junkyu. “I’ll get you more—and something to drink.”

Without meeting Junkyu in the eye, Jihoon tried to smile and thought of something to say but Junkyu was gone before he could even form a fucking word. Jihoon sighed, realizing he had been holding his breath. When he set down his plate, the fork fell. Swearing, he stooped to pick it up. Just then he heard a loud hooting from behind him, which he assumed was from Doyoung’s table. He turned briefly to look and found that two more classmates had arrived. Jihoon shook the fork of dirt then placed it a little distantly beside the plate.

Waiting for Junkyu to return, racking his mind on what he ought to say to Junkyu next, Jihoon checked his phone. In hopes to ease himself of tension, he texted Hyunsuk:

_I went hyung. happy now? (Angry Emoji)_

Jihoon wasn’t expecting any reply. He was only trying to help himself feel less alone in this torture, so he texted Hyunsuk more. Things like he wished he hadn’t let Hyunsuk mess with his mind, or that Junkyu was being unnecessarily mean( _he reminds me of that HR woman I hated in_ _college, hyung_ ), or that Doyoung’s male friends bragged too loud( _fucking spoiled brats_ ).

“Here you go.”

Jihoon started. Then he laughed, awkwardly. “You startled me,” he said. He watched as Junkyu borrowed the unoccupied seat from the nearby table.

“Sorry,” came Junkyu’s bland reply once he’d positioned himself across Jihoon.

Jihoon unsmiled, embarrassed. He was starting to get irritated at Junkyu. 

“Thanks for the cake,” said Junkyu, and Jihoon’s boiling irritation slightly eased. 

It was, instead, being slowly replaced by self-consciousness. Junkyu was staring at him like he was a mere stranger, an old friend Junkyu couldn’t care less about. If Jihoon hadn’t been sitting right across him, the idea of it would have enraged him. But experiencing it first hand, especially from the person he would never expect to experience it from, made Jihoon want to cower.

Now Jihoon was all of a sudden self-aware of the sweat on his temples and neck. “Oh, I dropped this,” he said, referring to the fork, “sorry.”

“Here, use mine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” said Junkyu, “didn't use it.”

Jihoon nodded, omitting to say that he wouldn’t have minded if Junkyu had. At least then it would reassure Jihoon that Junkyu had still in him even the slightest willingness to share. . . 

_Anything, Kyu. Give me hope._

But from the cold treatment Junkyu was giving him, Jihoon only wanted to smack himself. 

_. . . be a man. . ._

“I forgot to bring the umbrella,” said Jihoon, smiling kindly, looking Junkyu straight in the eye. He held back his breath. Junkyu had made it clear since Jihoon had arrived that he had no plans on talking about their last meeting. And Jihoon was aware of the consequences mentioning the umbrella entailed, since it was a piece that brought them back to that night.

“Oh, you can keep it,” said Junkyu, looking away. “You know I have an extra.”

Jihoon’s heart leapt inside. _I do, Kyu. I know a lot about you. So let me in. Again._

Jihoon was just opening his mouth to say something when someone from behind him yelled Junkyu’s name. He turned to look at a man waving by the entryway. When Jihoon looked at Junkyu, the latter was already on his feet.

“Excuse me,” he said, then jogged toward the man.

Jihoon returned to his food and finally started on his meatballs. Chewing, he repositioned his chair so he had a view of everybody—especially the entryway where Junkyu was now fondly talking to the man who Jihoon was sure wasn’t korean. A couple of other friends joined Junkyu and the man. And Jihoon now found himself watching the very opposite of the Junkyu he had just been talking with.

The side of Junkyu he had known to be.

Jihoon recalled how he had come to know Junkyu and, ultimately, realized that he’d caught feelings one did not normally feel toward a friend. 

It had all started from and with simple gestures of intimacy. From simply exchanging knowing smiles, to exchanging jokes, then escalated into playful slaps and pinching each other. And then the next thing they knew, they were ordering one drink to share. Then they were blowing each other’s ear; sharing one sanitizer; and even buying each other’s groceries, during which both always promised to pay each other but the payment had always come in the form of simply repeating the gesture.

Jihoon found himself smiling, then remembered he was in public. He cleared his throat, taking another spoonful of his meatballs. 

He didn’t know if he was being conceited but looking back now, he felt he had always known that Junkyu saw him more than just a friend. It was Junkyu who had first shown a. . . motive. And Jihoon had picked up on that. He had played with it, because although he had reservations about Junkyu, he had also admired him as a person. Everybody loved Junkyu. He was kind. He was generous, and not just with things, but more importantly with his energy. He knew how to lift people's spirits. _Everybody_ loved Junkyu. And Junkyu didn’t even know it. So the discovery Jihoon had realized that Junkyu was attracted to him had been such a mind-boggling experience that it had emboldened Jihoon in a way he had never once experienced in his life. 

Of all the people around them who had worked hard to get Junkyu to even talk to them, it was Jihoon who wasn't even doing anything Junkyu had taken interest in.

So he had _played_. Because why not? Jihoon loved the attention.

 _Play_. That was how it was for Jihoon. But the joke was on him. Because before he could even think of backing out from his own _game_ , he had already fallen.

“Oh, god—” someone said, snapping Jihoon back to reality.

Jihoon blinked, then found himself looking at a teenage boy who had out of the blue appeared in front of him. 

“—stop trying to be cute and grow a pair.”

Jihoon looked at the boy, eyes-wide. “The fu—what are you doing here? A pair of what?”

“Ballsy balls, cousin,” said the boy.

Jihoon ignored it and repeated, with the same voice he knew the boy’s mother would use to get the latter to answer, “What are you doing here, Jeongwoo?”

The boy named Jeongwoo regarded Jihoon with a raised eyebrow. “Well, unlike you, dear cousin,” he began, “I actually know the birthday boy.”

“I know him, too, shithead,” said Jihoon, trying not to sound too defensive and already starting to hate his cousin’s presence because the young devil always managed to get Jihoon to say and do. . . immature things.

“No, you don’t. You’re here for your—” Jihoon’s cousin leaned closer to whisper, “—boy toy,” then, stepping back slightly to flash Jihoon a dramatic smirk, he added, “or is it the other way around?”

Jihoon was unable to reply. He wanted to hit his cousin, whose stupid grin was enough reason to earn himself a good smacking, but Jihoon was more concerned now of the fact that he had forgotten that it wasn’t just Hyunsuk who knew about him and Junkyu. Now he wondered if someone else knew about it, too.

 _It was one stupid drunken night. And the shithead had to be there_.

“Sit down, Jeongwoo.”

“I can’t, sorry cuz,” said Jeongwoo, glancing back to point at his friends, toward Junkyu’s brother’s table. “We’re playing a game in a minute. We’re just waiting for—someone. I just walked here to check if it’s really you.”

“You never told me you’re friends with Junkyu’s brother,” said Jihoon.

“Well, I’m not,” said Jeongwoo, “but my classmate is. Dragged me here.”

“ _You_ get dragged now?” said Jihoon, “Isn’t that what you do?”

Jihoon earned himself a sarcastic smile from his cousin.

“I’ll see you later, cuz,” said Jeongwoo, “but if you want to leave first, it’s okay, don’t bother waiting.”

“Jeongwoo, wait.”

Jeongwoo stopped. Jihoon sighed deeply.

“Jeongwoo,” he began, “Junkyu and I. . .”

“Oh, I know where this is going,” said Jeongwoo, grinning proudly. Then, walking back to playfully pat his cousin’s head, he said, “don’t worry, cuz, you secret’s safe with me.”

Jihoon watched as his cousin ran back to his friends, thinking to himself that the last time he was sure his secret was safe was before he had drunkenly blabbered to his cousin, the very night Jeongwoo had stayed at his apartment for a friend’s party that was held just a few blocks away from Jihoon’s.

When Jihoon turned again to look at his cousin’s table, he saw Junkyu instead, walking back to his table. Jihoon tensed.

“Sorry,” said Junkyu, as he took his seat once again. “Who was that?”

Jihoon looked at him, confused. He thought he should be asking that question.

“That boy you talked to,” prompted Junkyu.

“Oh, my cousin, Jeongwoo. Who was that?”

“The one I just talked to?” said Junkyu, seemingly reluctant to answer his own question, but then he said, finally, “coworkers. Well, one of them’s my other coworker’s brother. She couldn’t make it. She sent him to hand her birthday present, can you believe that?”

Jihoon didn’t believe it. Not at all. But he didn’t think he wanted not to believe Junkyu. Junkyu would never lie to him. “He doesn’t look Korean.”

“Well, tell me,” said Junkyu, “how should Korean people look?”

Jihoon blushed. “Oh come on,” he said, “that’s not what I meant, Kyu.”

Jihoon looked up to study Junkyu’s face, searching it for reaction. It was Jihoon who had first given him that nickname, and Jihoon knew he loved it, he’d told him so. 

Junkyu didn’t seem interested in indulging Jihoon. Trying to hide his disappointment, Jihoon blurted, “I saw you last time.” He played with the nuggets Junkyu had brought. He waited for a few seconds but Junkyu didn’t reply, so he continued, “you and Hyunsuk-hyung.”

This time, Jihoon looked up to meet Junkyu’s eyes. But they told nothing. Jihoon waited, expecting, hoping for more. 

“We were. . .” Junkyu said finally, thinking, taking a deep breath. “. . . we had dinner, Hyunsuk-hyung and I.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Junkyu, “that’s pretty much about it. Needed some catching up.”

“Why?” said Jihoon, no longer caring that he was now being sentimental, his voice and the look on his face screaming it. He had slumped backward on his chair, his eyes on his plate, one arm outstretched to continue playing with his nuggets.

“God’s sake,” he heard Junkyu said after a pause. When Jihoon looked up, Junkyu had averted his face from his but the suppressed rage was hard to miss. And just then, before Jihoon could gaze away, Junkyu looked at him, glassy-eyed. “Why do you think?”

“I don’t know.”

“Of course. . .” said Junkyu, standing up. 

Jihoon was repulsed. He was used to a Junkyu who always capitulated.

He was always the water that extinguished Jihoon’s fire. That was how it was supposed to be. 

“. . . now please excuse me. I have to tend to my other guests. Have a good time.”

Jihoon got to his feet, too. “It’s okay, I’m leaving,” he said.

He looked at Junkyu, who scoffed. Jihoon flinched. He knew what Junkyu was thinking, that here was Jihoon again, quitting before he could even try. Same old song, Junkyu might be thinking. 

_The only difference now is that. . . he's giving me a taste of my own medicine._

"Alright then,” said Junkyu, “let me see you off.”

“Can I say hi to your mom before I go?”

Junkyu paused and Jihoon watched his back, waiting. But Junkyu didn't turn. "She's in the kitchen," he said instead.

Jihoon nodded, then looked toward his cousin’s table. “Wait,” he then said to Junkyu, “I just have to say goodbye to my cousin.”

“Jeongwoo?” asked Junkyu. “He’s here?”

Jihoon pointed to where Jeongwoo was sitting, along with Junkyu’s brother and their friends. Jihoon studied Junkyu’s face and searched for the same reaction that he had upon finding out that his cousin was friends with Junkyu’s brother. 

“Oh,” said Junkyu, “well, I’ll catch up with him later.”

“Small world, huh,” said Jihoon cautiously. And he had a right to be, because as he feared, Junkyu didn’t react to this supposed _universal_ _message_.

Embarrassed for himself, Jihoon walked toward Jeongwoo’s table. The _kids_ were so loud that Jihoon only nudged his cousin, who turned and gawked at him. Upon seeing Jihoon his eyes widened and his mouth opened bigger.

“I’m leaving,” said Jihoon.

“Already?”

Jihoon nodded once.

“Why?” asked Jeongwoo, pulling a funny face.

Jihoon playfully poked at his cousin’s forehead. “Because.”

“What’s that even mean?”

“You go home early,” said Jihoon. Surveying the other _kids_ laughing their heads off, an idea came up to him, but he let it sit in his head for now.

“What?”

Louder, trying to talk over his cousin’s noisy friends, Jihoon repeated what he had said.

“Yeah, yeah, fine,” said Jeongwoo, “bye!”

Jihoon ruffled Jeongwoo’s hair and walked back to where Junkyu was waiting. Resuming, he followed him. Junkyu stopped by the dining room.

"Just go through that hall," he told Jihoon.

Jihoon nodded. He knew Junkyu was doing everything in his power to avoid showing even the tiniest bit of emotion toward Jihoon. It seemed to have become his mission. Jihoon thought resentfully that Junkyu didn't have to be this indifferent. And for a minute there, he wanted to say that out loud. But he couldn't.

Jihoon stared at Junkyu for some more. Junkyu stared back.

_. . . be a man. For once. . ._

_Fine. I fucking deserve this._

"It's this way?" asked Jihoon, trying to hold his temper.

Junkyu nodded. "I'll wait for you at the gate."

Jihoon nodded. When he got to the kitchen, he saw Junkyu’s mom who at once glanced had recognized him. She hugged him happily, and so did Jihoon. 

“You’ve gotten big!” Junkyu’s mom exclaimed, laughing.

Jihoon feigned a hurt look. “Are you calling me fat, auntie?”

“Maybe,” laughed Junkyu’s mom, taking Jihoon’s hands in her. “I’m just playing with you. You’ve gained some good weight, Jihoon-ah! You used to be skinnier than our Junkyu!”

“Give the boy a break,” Junkyu’s aunt piped in, preparing to leave the kitchen, casserole in hand, “he’s a fine boy! I mean look at him!”

“Oh, I know! I’m just teasing!” called Junkyu’s mom to her, then to Jihoon she said, still clasping Jihoon’s hands, “did you come to get something? Junkyu sent you in? Seriously, the nerve of that boy. You go back there, you’re a guest!”

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head. “No, auntie,” he said, patting Junkyu’s mom’s hand, “I have to leave. I. . . need to be. . . someplace.”

“Already? Oh, alright, well, wait, let me get you something.”

Jihoon wanted to refuse but knew there was no point as Junkyu’s mom was already packing the readily sealed food in plastic containers. 

“This is too much, auntie,” said Jihoon, when he had been handed the paper bag that contained at least four plastic containers of different varieties of food.

“Ah, stop it,” said Junkyu’s mom, pushing Jihoon now to the hallway toward the dining room, “where’s Junkyu? Is he going to see you off?”

“Yes, auntie,” said Jihoon, “he’s waiting outside, I think.”

“Good, now give auntie one last hug. There you go.”

“Thanks so much for this auntie,” said Jihoon, holding up the bag.

Junkyu’s mom, smiling, fondly patted Jihoon on the cheeks. Jihoon found himself beaming at her. 

“All I ask, Jihoon-ah,” said Junkyu’s mom, smiling big, “is that you watch after my boy, that alright? He needs people like you. And he trusts you. So I do, too. You boys be good to each other, okay?”

Jihoon blinked, trying to maintain his smile. He pulled himself together. He nodded.

Once outside, Jihoon, realizing that he had been holding his breath again, took a deep breath. When he looked up at Junkyu he saw him standing by the gate, watching the guests in the backyard from where he stood. Jihoon slowed, studying Junkyu’s face. It seemed the latter hadn’t realized that Jihoon had just come out of the door.

And Jihoon grabbed the opportunity to immerse himself with the person who seemed to have shaken his core. And as he looked on, he realized there was something about Junkyu—something different, but good, despite the cold treatment he had given Jihoon. Jihoon felt like he was seeing Junkyu for the first time again. 

Jihoon couldn’t quite put his finger to it. Then he stopped. 

Junkyu looked. . . peaceful. He had a small smile tugging at his lips, and his face, toward where the sun shone, gave Jihoon a sensation of. . . lightness. 

Jihoon’s heart pounded. He was smiling against his will. But then a question wormed its way through his mind. A question to which he was afraid of the answer.

_This change. . . this good change. Is it because of me?_

No, that wasn’t even the rest of it. But he dreaded it.

_Is it because I’m no longer part of his life?_

Jihoon had to look away. Guilt, hate, resentment and all other horrible, heart-wrenching emotions stirred inside him. But he couldn’t tell if it was for Junkyu, or for himself. For letting them come to this point. For taking things for granted.

_For taking Junkyu for granted._

“Is that the cake you brought?” said Junkyu, “you’re bringing it back home?”

Jihoon stared at Junkyu for a while, confused. Then, realizing the joke, he let out a small laugh, his eyes on the bag he was carrying. Now Jihoon felt his heart rate pick up at Junkyu’s sudden display of ease toward him. He had probably realized he had been too aloof toward Jihoon and the guilt it had entailed was making him try to be a little more forthcoming. 

Somehow feeling boosted, Jihoon finally mustered the courage to say what he had been cooking up since the idea had come to him back at Jeongwoo’s table. 

“Kyu, I. . .” he began, “I was planning on cooking some. . . something nice. Do you think you could come?”

Junkyu was the most generous person Jihoon had ever met. He was generous not only with the energy he gave to people who mattered to him, but he was also generous with his emotions. When he was happy, he let it show, and when he was mad, he let it show.

But what he was showing now was neither of the two, and Jihoon found it hard to discern. Because even when doing a poker face, Junkyu always made it obvious. _This_ was not _that_ poker face.

Jihoon braced himself. But then. . .

“Sure,” said Junkyu. “When’s that?”

Jihoon, who had hoped but hadn’t really expected Junkyu to agree, stood frozen, unable to think of what to say, because he didn’t really know what to say. Then he remembered the banana cake. Clearly, that wasn’t enough. But he could do what he had offered Yoshi to do.

If Jihoon suggested tonight, he still had time for picking up groceries.

“Tonight,” said Jihoon, heart beating faster by the minute, “is that alright? I know it’s your brothe—”

“No—I mean, yeah sure,” said Junkyu, “I think the whole family’s here, anyway. And I’ve been up since five this morning. I’ve done my part. I could use some. . . escape.”

Jihoon couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Just moments ago, Junkyu couldn’t even look at him like he knew him, but now. . .

“Yeah, well,” said Jihoon, tucking one hand inside his jean’s pocket, “see you at. . . seven?”

“Seven-thirty,” said Junkyu. 

With a face that barely showed any emotion at all, it was hard for Jihoon to tell what was going on inside Junkyu’s head, but whatever it was that Junkyu was feeling, if he thought Jihoon didn’t deserve to see it now, then be it. Jihoon could prove himself worthy again tonight.

Jihoon smiled. “Well, see you, then,” he said, stepping out of the gate, “bye.”

“Bye.”

Feeling much lighter than when he had arrived earlier, Jihoon walked the street out into the highway where he would hail a cab that would bring him to the nearest grocery store.

  
  


Later that night, with everything set, the table, the food, the music, and even the lighting, Jihoon was ready for Junkyu to arrive. He had planned out everything, especially the things he needed to say, having learned from the lack of courage he had displayed this afternoon at Junkyu's home. But an hour passed, then another. . . Junkyu still hadn’t showed up. Jihoon called him, but Junkyu wasn’t picking up.

Jihoon had also texted him four to five times already.

Still, it hadn’t occurred to Jihoon that Junkyu might not be coming at all. He kept thinking of excuses for Junkyu.

Junkyu was never the type of person to be late. Or if he was going to be late, he would have given Jihoon a heads up, because Junkyu was too polite to leave people hanging.

But around a quarter to ten in the evening, Jihoon finally gave up. He sat down, unfeeling, his fingers playing with the stem of the wine glass, staring deeply into the flame of the candle. He scoffed. Thirty minutes ago, he was still expecting for Junkyu to come, and to maintain that fantasy he had even finally lit the candles.

Feeling foolish now, Jihoon popped the wine open and poured into his glass. He drank some. 

The rest of it he poured over the flame of the candle. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only tagging the added treasure members as they APPEAR in this story bcos I don't want their fans to come here and expect to see them when they're not even here. Yet. And that I don't want to spoil things.
> 
> Ok, I hope I've managed to break ur hearts again. No? well, I'll try again with the next one. 
> 
> THOUGHTS??*v*


	6. Too Polite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I'm not done with Jihoon. And so is he.
> 
> In this chapter, we (kind of) go back to how their 'friendship' blossomed into another level of 'relationship'. Well a little bit of that and u know, some angst. But with cherry on top I think? *shrugs* Read on.

The bus was barely occupied that night. There had been at least four other passengers when Jihoon and Junkyu had boarded it. It was Jihoon who had tugged them both to the back seat, sniggering at Junkyu’s little fury for being ‘ _manhandled_ ’. 

“. . .do that again, Jihoon, and I’ll—”

“. . . you’ll what?” Jihoon had retorted, challenging but smiling from ear to ear. 

Junkyu had only smiled—clearly against his will—rolling his eyes as he’d taken his seat beside the bus window. They were just coming home from a day-long practice at Hyunsuk’s studio, a time around when Jihoon still worked with the latter and Junkyu spent his day-offs there. 

It was also around that time when Jihoon was certain that his and Junkyu’s friendship had moved from _casual_ friendly to close friends. And it was also around that time when Jihoon sensed the extra. . . attention that Junkyu was giving him. 

You can call Jihoon self-assuming, but he had felt _it_ and he had recognized what _it_ was because how could he not? He’d been there. 

Jihoon had never experienced being given _that_ kind of attention, or at least never from people who mattered to him or he’d chosen to matter to him before he met Junkyu, and then all of a sudden there was this new person in his life—who everybody called the _Golden Boy_ but who refused to indulge the title—that was giving Jihoon the treatment he never knew he needed—not to mention from someone so admired by others. To Jihoon, it felt like a token. A trophy. 

Junkyu had been his trophy.

As they sat in the bus that night, all Jihoon could think of were ways he could use to impress the person beside him. Because this person had only good things to say about Jihoon. And Jihoon had intended to keep it that way. 

And so that night might have been the first time that Jihoon showed _interest_ . A _go signal_ of sorts. A _permission_ for Junkyu and himself to. . . _explore_.

Jihoon could still remember how he had put his arm around Junkyu’s shoulder so the latter could lean on his and not against the window—which he had noticed then Junkyu liked to do. And Jihoon still had a clear picture in his head of Junkyu’s shocked reaction, which Jihoon had ignored by closing his eyes and leaning the back of his head against the back of the seat. He had waited. And when he’d felt Junkyu softly land his head on his shoulder, he’d smiled.

And that same triumphant smile crept at Jihoon’s lips as he stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, freshly showered. 

Jihoon ruffled his hair then stood in front of the mirror. His eyes looked a little less bloodshot now. He had taken a quick shower in hopes of sobering himself. Not that he was _that_ drunk. He’d had a few. But he was no longer as tipsy as he had been before he had fallen asleep forty minutes ago.

Without wearing an undershirt, Jihoon put on a peanut-brown jacket, zipped it closed then checked the time in his phone: _11:22PM_. He cast a glance around the mess he had made of the supposed dinner date. He needed to clean up, but he didn't want to run late. 

He didn't want Junkyu to get there before him. 

Hastily, Jihoon ruffled his wet hair one more time, grabbed a mint candy then left. Once outside, he checked if he had missed a call—which was absurd, because how could he when he had, after that one call from Junkyu fifteen minutes ago, turned the volume to max. He had even brought with him his phone in the bathroom when he'd showered. 

Jihoon crossed the street, deciding he'd take the walk to the park where he and Junkyu were meeting. When he got to the park, he took comfort at the Christmas lights that snaked around trunks of trees up to their branches, giving the green bushes a glossy glow that mildly illuminated the park. 

Jihoon felt the mood of the park greatly resonated with how he was feeling right now. Somehow, Jihoon’s spirits were lifted and he felt like nothing could go wrong, but at the same time, his eyes were droopy, making him want to just go back to his bed. 

_With Junkyu_.

Jihoon walked toward the closest bench he could get, because he just really wanted to sit already, but when he got to it, it was damp with night fog. Knowing all too well that the rest would be no exemption, he remained standing, tucking both hands inside his jacket's pockets. He inhaled the night breeze. Just then he felt his phone buzz. It was a text-message from Junkyu:

_Coming._

Jihoon was surprisingly not as thrilled as he had been hours ago at the prospect of seeing Junkyu. There was this numbness in him, his body's default reaction every time he was trying to protect himself from emotional pain. He hated that kind of pain. He hated feeling it. It made him feel weak. And Jihoon hated feeling weak. 

Ten more minutes and Jihoon saw headlights of a vehicle. He turned to see a cab pull over by the curb just outside the park. From the cab emerged Junkyu, now wearing different clothes from earlier this afternoon.

Instead of waiting, Jihoon met Junkyu by the entrance of the park. The cab had taken off.

"Hey," greeted Jihoon.

Junkyu smiled at him.

"Sorry, it's late," said Jihoon. He didn't know why he was apologizing. _This_ wasn't his idea.

"No," said Junkyu, "sorry I. . . missed. . . _it_."

"Yeah," said Jihoon, looking down, not really knowing what to say. He wanted to start asking but he felt too weak to talk. He wondered whether it was because of lack of sleep.

The two of them started walking, side by side, into the park. 

"I was. . ." He heard Junkyu begin to say, but didn't continue. 

Jihoon looked up, anticipating. But he realized he no longer cared what Junkyu was going to say because. . .

". . . This will sound pathetic," Junkyu went on, "but I fell asleep. They—oh, by the way, you're cous—Jeongwoo, he's at home. They slept over."

"Oh."

"Yeah," said Junkyu, "you didn't tell me you were coming with him."

"We didn't go together."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," said Jihoon, "it was a coincidence. But I did tell you he was there. When you walked back to our table. After talking to your. . . friend."

"Oh, I didn't realize."

Jihoon nodded. "I could tell. You were rather. . . preoccupied."

 _With your Japanese friend_.

"Yeah?" said Junkyu, “Well, anyway, I fell asleep. . .”

_Lame excuse._

". . . and I forgot where I put my phone. Nobody woke me up until nine."

"You must be really tired," said Jihoon, non-concomitant.

"I think so," said Junkyu, "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be."

. . . because whatever it was—or _whoever_ stood in the way—Jihoon would do whatever it took to keep Junkyu his. And he knew he would win.

“You’re dragging,” said Junkyu.

Jihoon looked up again. “What?”

“You sound tir—are you drunk?”

“No,” Jihoon said immediately. He straightened and cleared his throat, looking straight ahead, chin up.

At last they reached the gazebo where Jihoon led the two of them to sit on the single bench present. Jihoon sat down but Junkyu didn’t. He watched as Junkyu walked to the rail and put both elbows on top, gazing toward the pond’s dark water.

Jihoon watched Junkyu’s back. He wanted to walk up to Junkyu, stand there beside him. But he found himself glued to the seat instead, his mind drifting back to that afternoon he had laid beside Junkyu when the latter had already dismissed him.

It made Jihoon feel foolish now. But he’d needed to try that day. He had needed to be sure. Because he had never seen that day coming. He had gotten too comfortable with the idea that Junkyu would always remain the open and forbearing person that he was, because everybody knew him to be just like that, no matter the circumstance. Because that was Junkyu. . . and being kind to others—it was just something he couldn’t help doing.

So, if Junkyu could be considerate to others, why could he not to Jihoon? 

One stupid mistake and he was done with him? That was unfair.

And so Jihoon had tried to show his little resistance by staying that afternoon, by lying beside Junkyu, by taking him into his arms. But with how Junkyu had responded. . . it was just too much for Jihoon. It had robbed him of strength to go further. 

He had spent the following days depressed. He had to battle the fact that the only person who believed in him and he believed in had stopped trying. And what was worse was that Jihoon had no one to blame but himself.

Jihoon had only recovered two days later, when he’d managed to force himself to go out because he had run out of something to eat. That was when he’d met with Hyunsuk. Funny thing was that he had never mustered the courage to tell what the problem was. 

Because he had sensed then that Hyunsuk had already known. Jihoon had just been too ashamed to bring it up, because he’d known that even though Hyunsuk wouldn’t show it, he would still side with Junkyu. 

Jihoon knew that Hyunsuk would have listened if Jihoon tried. But the fear of losing one more friend was too much to bear. So instead of pouring his heart out, Jihoon had chosen to simply enjoy Hyunsuk’s company and had taken comfort at the camaraderie that only he shared with the older man. 

“Scoot over.”

Jihoon looked up to see Junkyu standing beside him. His words registering, Jihoon moved to make some space for Junkyu, who sat down. Jihoon, on the other hand, was uncoiling his earphones, offering one earbud to Junkyu, who took it. He had to scoot closer to Jihoon. 

Jihoon plugged it to his phone and played, coincidentally, a _Chris Brown_ song called _Next To You_. 

It was too cheesy but Jihoon didn’t have the energy to explain himself. He had only wanted to listen to a song and that was the first thing he saw that before he could even remember what the song was about, he had already tapped his finger on the screen. 

“I like his song,” he heard Junkyu say. 

_Thank god_. 

Jihoon hummed in response, leaning his back against the wooden rail. He closed his eyes. Beside him, he felt Junkyu lean back, too. Curious if he had also closed his eyes, Jihoon opened his eyes to see. 

_He did._

Jihoon removed his earbud and stared at Junkyu’s face. In the silence, Jihoon began to hear his heartbeat. 

There was something Jihoon wanted to do. And he willed his breath to steady, and his racing mind to focus. 

Replacing the earbud back to his ear, he sighed then leaned back. Though this time his eyes remained opened. But after a minute or two, before he knew it, he fell asleep.

He woke up to see Junkyu standing again, by the rail of the gazebo. Looking down, he saw his earphones coiled on his lap. He thrust it back into his jacket’s pockets. Only when he looked up again did he realize that Junkyu was on the phone.

The smile slid from Jihoon’s face. 

Junkyu had his back on Jihoon and it looked to Jihoon that the former hadn’t noticed him waking up. 

Jihoon leaned back against the rail and closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. With his eyes closed, he tried to listen in on what Junkyu was talking about. But he was mumbling. 

When Jihoon heard Junkyu end the call, he let his body relax, trying not to shut his eyes too much. A few seconds and he heard the soft thud of Junkyu sitting. That was when Jihoon decided to open his eyes. He blinked at him. Junkyu stared back.

“I shouldn’t have called you,” said Junkyu, “you seem really tired.”

“No, it’s really fine,” said Jihoon, sitting up now. He could sense it. He had been through it before, it was hard to miss this time. 

He was being dismissed.

“Really, I’m sorry,” said Junkyu, “I shou—”

“Stop apologizing,” said Jihoon, unable to hold his impatience anymore, “why do you like to do that?”

Jihoon didn’t know what he was talking about. But he wasn’t liking what Junkyu was doing. It was him who had called Jihoon here.

_And he missed the fucking dinner._

Jihoon felt Junkyu should at least make it up for his lost time.

“Like to do what?” said Junkyu.

Jihoon didn’t even know what, but said the first thing that came to mind, “You apologize for every single thing.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Junkyu frowned at him.

Jihoon looked away, sensing danger, stopping himself from speaking further. He took a deep breath. He was aware that Junkyu was now witnessing it all. His effort(struggle, more like) in trying to keep it together.

 _Good. Let him see I’m trying my fucking best_.

And Junkyu seemed to know this, as well. This act Jihoon was trying to pull. Because it seemed, with what was just about to happen, he was now up to put it to the test.

“Why don’t you tell me about your female friend,” he said.

Jihoon froze.

But recognizing the challenge, he held his chin up. “I told you,” he said, “it’s over.”

“What is?” said Junkyu.

Jihoon gazed through the eyes that screamed victory, no matter how Junkyu tried to hold it back.

“We were—” Jihoon began, then surrendering he said, “It’s all my fault, Kyu. She has nothing to do with it. I—”

“I know that,” said Junkyu. Jihoon could sense the next words, and he knew they were nothing that would please his ears. Junkyu seemed to be weighing it. 

And a part of Jihoon pleaded Junkyu didn’t say it.

Junkyu got to his feet, then turned away. Jihoon was almost relieved. But then. . .

Junkyu turned back. “You are so selfish,” he said, and his voice cracked. “And. . .”

Jihoon, wounded, looked at Junkyu. But Junkyu turned away again, taking a deep breath, walking up to the rail.

“What else, Kyu?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“I do—”

“It’s happened,” said Junkyu, “you’ve apologized. It’s done.”

Jihoon sprang to his feet then walked up to Junkyu, grabbing him by the arm. He made Junkyu to face him. “Go on,” he said, “say it all. You’re not supposed to forgive me that easily.”

Junkyu, looking abashed, yanked his arm free. “ _That_ is the problem, Jihoon,” he snapped. “You want _this_!”

“What?”

But Junkyu only swallowed and prepared to walk again, evidently trying to keep himself together.

“No, Kyu,” said Jihoon, stopping him again, “talk to me. What are you sa—”

“You feed on this _shit_ , Jihoon,” said Junkyu, his voice hoarse. A sob ensued.

“What?”

“You like hurting people,” said Junkyu, “so you can lick their wounds after.”

“What are you s—”

“That you’re messed up!”

Jihoon blinked, fully awake now. He had been holding his breath for so long that he hiccupped. Under different circumstances, he would have found it funny.

“Yeah,” he said finally, absently nodding his head, now looking up to the sky, “I am messed up.”

Silence. 

Jihoon kept his gaze to the sky, the lights from the trees morphing into small colorful dots as his vision focused on the sky which was speckled with stars. 

Then he looked at Junkyu’s face, which was turned toward the other side.

Jihoon stepped closer to Junkyu and, with his hand, made Junkyu face him. “But you already know that, Kyu,” he said, “you’ve always known. . . that I’m messed up. Don’t you. . . Kyu?”

Jihoon watched as Junkyu, glassy-eyed, swallowed another sob. 

“I guess I do,” Junkyu said at once.

Jihoon put both hands around Junkyu’s arms. He squeezed them softly. “Then why are you only telling me this now?” he then said quietly. 

_Because I’m tired of it_ was the answer Jihoon was waiting and dreaded. _Because I’m tired of you._

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” said Junkyu, “I guess.”

Jihoon stared at Junkyu. He blinked. Then he smiled weakly.

“Oh, Kyu,” said Jihoon, “you’re—”

“I know,” said Junkyu, “I’m too polite. I just can’t help it.”

Jihoon blinked at Junkyu. “Kyu, I. . . your—”

“You’ve always thought that,” said Junkyu, “I’m too nice. Too proper. Oh no, you didn’t just think that. You’ve said it out loud. Like it was some kind of a diagnosis that needed prescriptions. From _you_. You’ve always thought that just because I’ve always let you win, I’m incapable of doing what you can do.”

Jihoon wanted to deny it all. But all of it was true. And his shame had already rendered him mute. He wanted to apologize. For saying those things. For even just thinking about them. For underestimating Junkyu, like he had underestimated Hyunsuk. Jihoon knew it was _his_ problem. He saw Junkyu’s kindness as a weakness—he saw Junkyu’s kindness as a weakness. 

Because Jihoon had been kind before. And it had only hurt him more than he could count. Add to that the factor that he had grown up with people whose purpose in life it seemed was to constantly remind Jihoon to man up. _Be tough!_ They said. _Don't let your emotions take control_!

And how could Jihoon not let those in his head? When his father, whom he trusted the most as a boy, the only person who was, in Jihoon's life, the epitome of kindness, had left him?

How could he prove that kindness was good then?

Junkyu of all people should know where Jihoon was coming from. Because he was, after all, the only person who knew about Jihoon's past—the only person Jihoon had allowed to.

_You're being unfair, Jihoon._

Jihoon looked at Junkyu pleadingly. Then, cautiously, he took Junkyu's hand to his. His heart almost leapt when he let him. Jihoon pressed Junkyu's palm to his face. And he knew Junkyu felt it.

It was the first and the same intimate touch they had ever shared. The night they had both acknowledged to themselves that they shared something more special than mutual understanding. The night Jihoon had told Junkyu about his dad. The night Jihoon was convinced he could trust Junkyu with anything.

It had been a cold night. The first time in years Jihoon had felt. . . emotions. . . and had willingly let his guard down. 

Jihoon wanted Junkyu to remember that, hoping it would weigh heavier than the bad things Jihoon had done. Because he knew there was no amount of apology to take them all back now.

“Jihoon.”

Jihoon met Junkyu’s eyes.

“Jihoon. . ." Junkyu began, “we’re. . . we’re only hurting each other. It’s best—”

Jihoon leaned forward to kiss Junkyu.

He felt Junkyu tense, but Jihoon tried again, this time slower and softly. 

Then, at last, Junkyu gave in. 

The two of them walked out of the park just as the time on the screen of Jihoon’s phone blinked _12:28._

They walked in silence, hands touching. When they had parted after the kiss, it seemed both had lost the ability to speak. Only when Junkyu pointed out that he was tired and that they should go home did Jihoon speak, too, agreeing.

Now Jihoon stopped. He stopped Junkyu as well by taking his hand. Confused, Junkyu looked at Jihoon. Jihoon said the only word he could manage, “Stay.”

Jihoon waited. Junkyu nodded. 

Speechless but now holding hands, Jihoon and Junkyu headed back to Jihoon’s apartment. As soon as they had entered and Jihoon had switched on the light, Jihoon rushed to clean up the mess he had made. Not that he was being egotistic or that he had expected Junkyu to come, but before he had left he had imagined bringing Junkyu here to witness all the effort he had put in and how Junkyu had only wasted that. He had wanted Junkyu to feel bad.

But now that was the last thing Jihoon wanted to do. He had realized now that he didn’t have the luxury of Junkyu’s time and trust and that every single thing he was about to do might affect his attempt at patching things up.

“Sorry I missed it.”

“It’s okay, Kyu,” said Jihoon, bent on the table, now wiping it clean, “you can take a shower if you like.”

“I smell that bad, huh?”

“No,” Jihoon said immediately, straightening up, “I just. . . I thought you wanted to rel—you know what, never mind,” he walked up to Junkyu, throwing the dirty cloth he’d used to wipe the table. He smiled at Junkyu, then pulled him closer to him, quite awkwardly at first. Then he sniffed Junkyu’s neck and let his lips remain there. But Junkyu lightly pushed him, laughing.

“What the hell is wrong with you,” said Junkyu quietly, smiling but not meeting Jihoon’s eyes. Jihoon watched him look around, as if looking for something he could use to distract himself. And he did. 

Picking the dirty cloth Jihoon had thrown, Junkyu said, “You’re the one who needs a shower. So, go. I’ll finish this.”

Jihoon feigned an offended look at Junkyu, who hadn’t seen it because he was already at work. Jihoon smiled instead and prepared to take a shower. 

Five minutes later, Jihoon walked out of the bathroom, already dressed in his pajamas—without the top. The room looked much wider than it had when he entered the bathroom, and the bed was already made. 

Junkyu was already lying there, wrapped in Jihoon’s blanket. Though his eyes were closed, Jihoon knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

Jihoon, swallowing, joined Junkyu. He tried to pull the blanket over him but Junkyu, smiling, wouldn’t let him. Jihoon mirrored the smile. Just then Junkyu opened his eyes.

Jihoon said, grinning, “From now on, you can’t help clean up my mess unless I ask for it.”

“Why not?” Junkyu said, grinning back.

Jihoon wasn’t sure if he should say it. He was going to ruin the moment. But. . .

“Oh, I know,” said Junkyu, beating him to it, “you’re allergic to good manners.”

Jihoon didn’t know how to react at first. But seeing Junkyu’s smile, he relaxed. 

“Why are you allergic to it anyway?” Junkyu teased even more. 

Jihoon ignored him, shoved a pillow beneath his head. He just smiled at Junkyu. Junkyu, propping on his elbows, leaned forward to say, “Tell me, Mr. Wise. Should I stop being nice to people?”

Jihoon, blushing but still managing to maintain his smile, closed his eyes, then, jokingly he answered, “Yeah. You won’t get anything by being nice.”

Jihoon’s heart pounded as soon as he’d said that, wondering if he had just ruined it all. But when he opened his eyes, Junkyu was smiling at him. He stared at Jihoon for a good minute or two.

“That’s not true,” Junkyu said finally, caressing Jihoon’s face. Then, inching closer to Jihoon’s, he let his head fall on the pillow and whispered, “I got you.”

Jihoon, speechless, watched as Junkyu close his eyes.

Now he realized, as he let his fingers brush Junkyu’s bangs, that his dad wasn’t the only epitome of kindness he knew. 

He was looking at one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm excited to know what u guys think ><
> 
> XOXO  
> meadea


	7. The 'Boyfriend'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W.A.R.N.I.N.G. Um. . . u guys remember when I changed the rating to Mature? It was mainly for the language and the triggering roller coaster emotions. But now, I think it’s for this chapter. 
> 
> I've always been a little squeamish about writing a sensual(oh god bless the kids who are reading this) JK and JH in this fic bc although they're already in their 20's I feel like bc they're still new, I had to be careful with how I portray them smut-wise(lol just kddng). But then they won ROTY and Jihoon was like—with that suit??? Gurl, that was a MAN up there! Mmmkaaay, he is indeed the cute-SEXY he claims to be! 
> 
> And so I feel like their ROTY award has warranted me to write a scene that I wrote in this chapter(liaaaar! u've always planned to!!!). It was hard(damn that kiss from Too Polite alrdy took me through some tough decision-making u guys XD) but satisfying. 
> 
> Ok enuff. Read on.

Odd, Junkyu thought, how, despite falling asleep at nearly half past three in the morning and waking up two hours later, he felt well-rested.

He had woken up at exactly five-thirty in the morning and had been, as soon as he’d washed his face and fixed himself in front of the mirror, beset by an urge to leave while the older man was still sound asleep.

Though Junkyu would like to believe that the reason behind such need was because he dreaded having to deal with the _situation_ , the truth remained that what he’d really wished to accomplish by thinking of leaving first thing in the morning was that so he could further the _mystery_ . Make Jihoon ask for more— _chase_ for more.

“Oohmp,” Junkyu yelped, startled at the sudden attack of a hug from behind.

“Good morning,” came the voice.

Junkyu, who’d been standing over the stove frying some bacon, blinked, his mouth opening then closing, then opening again. Unable to produce neither a word nor a sound, he swallowed.

“Bacon,” he heard Jihoon mumble in his neck as he locked his hands around him, “nice. Can I have some eggs, too?”

Junkyu wanted to push free from the embrace but the thrilling sensation dominated and so he allowed it.

He allowed himself. He allowed Jihoon.

“Done,” said Junkyu, bobbing his head toward the small table where a plate of eggs and two bowls of fried rice had already been carefully placed.

“But I like them scrambled.”

“Then you’ll have to make your own,” said Junkyu, trying to speak as calmly as possible, even though his heart hammered against his chest from the effect of the warmth of Jihoon’s body pressed against his back.

“I’m only kidding,” said Jihoon, and Junkyu thought he felt his cold lips brush against the sensitive skin of his neck, “I can do sunny-side up.”

“Good,” said Junkyu.

Junkyu waited for some witty reply. But what he got instead was a tighter hug with Jihoon’s face almost buried in his neck now. 

And Junkyu thought he was imagining it, but. . . He thought—he felt. . . There was something Jihoon was doing against his back—bottom, actually.

His neck and face heating up, Junkyu swallowed as he tried to focus on the bacon rather than on the groin that was now pressed against his ass.

But then he started feeling sensations, particularly. . . _down there_.

“Get off,” he said finally, shrugging Jihoon away, “let me cook this well.”

“It’s a freakin’ bacon, Masterchef.”

“That I haven’t burnt yet,” said Junkyu, “so unless you like them golden, you’ve got to stop nuzzling me like a dog.”

Junkyu almost felt relieved when Jihoon broke the _contact_ . But it was too late, for his body had already reacted to it. Flushing, Junkyu slightly pressed _his_ on the counter table to hide whatever had to be hidden.

Junkyu knew what Jihoon was doing, he recognized this conscious and silly display of power he held over Junkyu; the effect he had on him. Jihoon knew Junkyu’s weak spot.

_Sweet spot, you mean._

The red blotches on Junkyu’s face magnified.

 _Pull your crap together, Junkyu_.

Junkyu would like himself to think that he didn’t want to be played like this, not anymore—that he wanted to be _in_ on the _play_ instead. But deep down, he enjoyed it, as always. He enjoyed these little tricks of Jihoon. And he also knew deep down that, despite his little fits of defiance, he liked to bathe in it. Like a queen in her silver tub.

Finally when the bacon was ready, Junkyu sat down at the table. He and Jihoon ate in silence, but only because both were too famished to speak. As usual, Jihoon finished first. And Junkyu was only halfway through his breakfast when Jihoon got to his feet to walk to his mini fridge.

He heard Jihoon slightly shake a box of fresh milk.

“Oh,” said Jihoon, sounding a little disappointed, “not much left.”

He walked back to the table with the box of milk then poured Junkyu’s glass. It filled a quarter of it. As soon as Jihoon had thrown the empty box, he walked to the table once again to take a sip of the milk.

“I thought that’s mine,” said Junkyu.

Jihoon only gave him a smile.

Then, much to Junkyu’s surprise, he dragged his chair beside Junkyu’s and sat down. He put his arm around Junkyu’s shoulders.

Junkyu made a face. “What are you doing?”

Jihoon grinned, withdrawing his arm. Not giving an answer, he watched Junkyu finish his breakfast instead. To Junkyu’s surprise, and relief, he didn’t feel that self-conscious about it. In fact, he quite liked it.

And only when he finished his milk did Jihoon start to talk again. Which Junkyu didn’t hear the first time, because it came out as a mumble.

So Jihoon said, louder this time, and forced himself to look Junkyu in the eye, “Don’t do _it_ again.”

Frowning, Junkyu said, “Don’t do what?”

There was a momentary pause.

“Resisting me,” said Jihoon.

Junkyu, still frowning, didn’t know what to make of that at first. But only when Jihoon looked away, looking embarrassed, did it hit Junkyu.

“I. . . ” he began, “I wasn’t. . . resisting you.”

His face still averted from Junkyu, Jihoon said, “What then?”

Junkyu thought for a moment. Jihoon had always had a knack for ruining a moment. It was almost like a need for him. A balance. A _twisted balance_.

“I was trying to stop whatever it was that we have,” said Junkyu finally, this time looking away from Jihoon and playing with the now empty glass.

Quiet. Then he heard Jihoon say, weakly, “Why?”

Junkyu sighed. He might as well as be honest, because he had already let it out more than once anyway. “Because you hurt me.”

Another silence. Then. . .

“I thought you were. . .” Jihoon said, “fine with _it_.”

Junkyu almost thought that funny that he almost even laughed. Because Jihoon was right. Junkyu was indeed fine with _it_.

"I was," said Junkyu. "And that was the problem. . . it's become normal."

Silence.

“What are we really. . .” Junkyu asked, but unlooking, “. . . Jihoon? What. . . what am I to you?”

Jihoon was quiet.

Then Junkyu felt Jihoon's hand tug at his chin, then he was turning Junkyu’s face to meet his eyes.

And that was when Jihoon leaned in to give Junkyu a peck on the lips.

Then it was at that moment, when Jihoon broke away and Junkyu gazed at Jihoon’s face, dreamy from the quick contact, that Junkyu remembered why he had chosen to stay this morning. 

Because he had wanted more of _this_.

Junkyu stayed for another two hours. They had returned to the bed and watched a movie Jihoon had suggested. It was a _Rom-Com_ with teenagers at its center. It reminded Junkyu of the Netflix series _Riverdale_ —which he had never managed to finish—except the movie they watched was more horrendous and the lead characters were even more carefree and were too erotically inclined for their own good.

Having guessed already how it was going to end, Junkyu had already stopped watching and had started tending on the unreplied messages in his phone—which he knew irritated Jihoon. When Junkyu was too rapt on his phone, he would either hear Jihoon cluck his tongue or clear his throat. 

Junkyu took pleasure at all these.

Only when the movie was on its last five minutes did Junkyu put down his phone and pretended to be awed by the ending, which he thought he’d already seen from another movie years ago.

Jihoon had stopped talking. When the movie credits went up, he got to his feet and went inside the bathroom to take a shower. Junkyu didn’t know whether to laugh or what.

In the next five minutes, with Junkyu back at his phone, he felt Jihoon climb back to the bed, this time only in a new pair of boxers. Out of the corner of his eye, Junkyu saw him pull the covers over him. Junkyu snorted.

“You’re obviously cold,” he said, “why don’t you put on something.”

But Jihoon didn’t say anything, only put his laptop back on his lap. And then. . .

“Kyu.”

“Yeah?” said Junkyu, turning to look at Jihoon, whose eyes were now fixated on the laptop screen. Junkyu thought he seemed to be weighing whatever it was he was going to say. He looked like he was forcing himself to smile. Junkyu, holding back a smile, braced himself for some silly joke. But before Jihoon could even open his mouth, Junkyu, remembering, blurted, “Oh, I need to leave in thirty minutes.”

“Oh, okay.”

Junkyu didn’t say anything again partly because he was deleting old text-messages, and partly because he could still feel like Jihoon wanted to say something. And he did.

“Have you ever given a. . .” Jihoon began. He stopped to look at Junkyu, then with a shake of his head, returning to peer at the laptop screen, he said, “no, of course not. Never mind.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Okay.”

But then Junkyu thought he heard Jihoon mumbling. So he said again, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No,” said Junkyu, “you said something.”

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“What did I say then?”

“I don’t know,” said Junkyu, “Robot?”

Jihoon laughed at him. “‘Robot’? What would I say that for?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let it go then.”

“No,” said Junkyu, “tell me.”

“No.”

“What is it? ‘Robot’? Have I given a Robot? A what? Or to whom? What would I give a freakin’ Robot?”

But Jihoon ignored him and continued peering through the laptop screen with a mocking grin on his face, amusingly saying to himself, “‘Robot’. Yes, folks, he said ‘Robot’.”

Junkyu rolled his eyes then got to his feet and walked to the bathroom to unload his bladder. And only when he reached the toilet bowl did the _word_ finally come to him. 

Junkyu blinked, his mind automatically recalling a scene from the movie they had just watched where two male students, on prom night, had gone to a club instead and gotten drunk which eventually led to one unzipping his pants and the other. . . dropping to his knees.

Junkyu felt himself shiver in shame. 

_The nerve of that—_

Junkyu came out of the bathroom not meeting Jihoon’s eyes.

But then Jihoon said, “Your boyfriend called,” throwing Junkyu his phone.

Barely catching it, Junkyu frowned at him, “What?” he said.

To Junkyu’s surprise, Jihoon laughed. “I’m only kidding. You’ve got a message.”

Junkyu didn’t know what to make of Jihoon’s mood swings. Ignoring him, he looked at his phone instead. The text-message had already been opened.

“Did you open it?‘

“What?”

Junkyu held up his phone.

“The text-message?”

Junkyu only looked on and didn’t answer.

“Of course not,” said Jihoon. “Maybe you did as you were catching it.”

_Whatever._

Junkyu read the text-message. When he was done, he prepared to leave. That was when Jihoon got to his feet. Junkyu kept his eyes up.

Jihoon reached for his hands, then pulled him closer to him. Junkyu, however, made sure they maintained a. . . _space_.

“Did I upset you?” said Jihoon.

“Why do you think that?"

“Because you look like it.”

“I’m not upset,” Junkyu lied.

Jihoon leaned forward and the familiar smell of Jihoon’s soap gripped Junkyu like magic that he wasn’t able to step back as he would have done. 

“Still,” Jihoon whispered in Junkyu’s mouth, “sorry if I did.”

Junkyu, frozen, didn’t know what to say.

“I just. . .” Jihoon went on, “. . . I get crazy when I’m not the center of your attention.”

Junkyu looked Jihoon in the eye. Then he had to chuckle and push Jihoon away as he did so.

“You disgust me, Jihoon,” said Junkyu, still smiling, “I have to go.”

Junkyu had looked away from Jihoon, but he could still see the grin on his stupid face.

As Junkyu reached the door, he turned one more time to look at Jihoon, who had already sat by the edge of the bed. Junkyu’s eyes almost dropped to the area he had been trying to avoid. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

Jihoon smiled at him. “You will.”

Junkyu, frowning while smiling, shook his head and rolled his eyes as he closed the door behind him.

**_Meanwhile, An Hour Later, On The Other Side of the City_ **

A richly dressed man was let in inside a restaurant by a middle-aged Host.

“Welcome, sir,” greeted the Host. “Let me show you to your table.”

“Thanks.”

The Host led the man to a table by the far end of the restaurant, around a space that seemed to have been cleared of other guests.

“This is your table, sir,” said the Host.

“Thank you so much,” said the man. He took the Host’s hand to hand him a bill. He smiled at him. The Host, clearly happy, smiled back. Then he left. He was replaced by a Hostess who came running toward the man’s table.

The man was already smiling at her, flashing his teeth. “Nice to see you again, Ryza.”

“It’s very nice to see you again,” began the Hostess, “Mr. Takata. Will you be having anything as you wait for your guest?”

“A glass of red would be good, Ryza,” said the man called Mr. Takata.

“Right, sir,” said the Hostess, bowing then leaving.

Mashiho Takata unbuttoned one button of his coat to breathe more freely. He looked around him, then beyond the sea of heads into the entrance of the restaurant. Then, realizing he was being unreasonably nervous, he chuckled, looking down on the table.

_The things you do to me, Kim Junkyu._

Just as the Hostess returned with his red wine, a man dressed in a black suit appeared in front of them. He was pointing at Mashiho like he knew him, though Mashiho certainly didn’t. Still, Mashiho smiled as he waited for the stranger to reveal where he had met him all while trying to prepare his excuse for not remembering this stranger.

“Aren’t you. . .” the stranger began.

Mashiho smiled, waiting.

“You’re Junkyu’s boss, right?”

Mashiho found himself standing up, for etiquette’s sake. He shook the man’s waiting hand.

“Yes,” he said, smiling, “and you are?”

“I’m his boyfriend,” said the stranger, “Park Jihoon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've already written the ENDING for this story u guys. Still subject for change(I mean the construction maybe, or the wording). 
> 
> I don't think it's that sad??? HAHAHA. No srsly. U'll understand when we get there. But I still want to take JK and JH to a journey. I want them to grow more in this story. So that the said ending is worth the wait. And makes sense, too.
> 
> Now if all goes to plan, I know exactly how many more chapters this story is going to take before finish line. But if, for example, Junkyu and Jihoon of TREASURE suddenly announce themselves in public as actually real-life BOYFRIENDS, u bet I'm going to make writing jikyu fics a career! XD
> 
> Now let me hear ur thoughts pls! <3<3


	8. Marked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. And I love you, too.
> 
> This is bc I'm campaigning hard(as I'm sure u are too) for that JIKYU SELCA(whch is so long-overdue) & also bc u keep the kudos coming and u guys are so kind & really perceptive with ur comments (not only for this fic) & honestly, they fire me up. But also melt my heart.
> 
> Now, now! The following chapter leads to something THAT IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR. . . your mother. So u better look behind u, check if she's watching over ur shoulder, bc this kind of gets~

Realizing that he was smiling alone, in public, Junkyu pursed his lips then pulled himself together. Shoulders up, he looked on and, from where he was walking, could now see the top of the building of the restaurant where he was bound to meet his boss. Feeling cheerful all of a sudden, Junkyu quickened his pace.

Today he felt light-hearted. Junkyu was still elated by the recent events that had taken place. He had not seen any of it coming. Although he was still not entirely confident about his and Jihoon’s newfound bond, he chose to look at the bright side because he was just too happy to actually care about whatever _perils_ the future might hold.

Because wasn't this what he wanted? For Jihoon to simply try? And he did try. Eagerly, even. He could have simply quit. In fact, that would have been the most logical thing Jihoon could have done.

But he did try instead. And Junkyu, if he was half as good as he believed himself to be, he at least owed Jihoon to also try and trust again.

And anyway, Junkyu just wanted to be in the moment. He felt like he deserved this. 

After _everything_ , he deserved this.

Not five minutes later, the building that housed the restaurant came into view. Junkyu kept his head down, afraid he might trip over and embarrassed himself in public, as he had the last time he was in a suit. He looked up only when he was in front of the very entrance.

Then he frowned—at the man in front of him talking to the Host. He knitted his eyebrows, gaping. He thought he would recognize that _head_ everywhere. Not to mention that unmistakable child-like giggly voice.

Junkyu lightly tapped the man’s back shoulder. “Hyunsuk-hyung?”

The man turned to look at Junyu. Junkyu’s face lit up. 

“Junkyu?”

“I can’t believe you’re here too,” Junkyu said in disbelief, then his face cleared, “Wait—are you on a date?”

Hyunsuk smiled at him, his eyes almost disappearing, and said, “Now that you’re here, I guess it _is_ a date.”

“What?”

“Oh, this is probably meant as a surprise.”

“Hyung, what—”

“Come on, let’s go,” said Hyunsuk, taking him by the arm.

“No, hyung, wait,” Junkyu said, stopping, “what do you mean?”

Hyunsuk heaved a sigh, pretending to look impatient, “I think Jihoon planned all this. As a date. But between us three,” he said, giggling.

“What? Ji—Jihoon’s here?”

Hyunsuk, his smile never leaving his face, looked at Junkyu like he was only wasting time. He then grabbed him inside.

“I’m sorry,” said the Host, stopping Junkyu, “sir. But I need your name.”

“Oh,” said Junkyu, passing a quick look at Hyunsuk then back, “Kim Junkyu. I am with—”

“Oh, yes, sir,” said the Host, “Mr. Takata has been waiting.”

It was Hyunsuk who reacted, his face wrinkling, “Who?”

“Let me escort you to your tab—”

“No,” said Junkyu, “I think I can help myself, um, mister. Can you just point to me, please. . .”

“It’s at the far end of the room, sir,” said the Host, “by the brick wall.”

Junkyu, saying his thanks, left, slightly shoving Hyunsuk forward.

As they sidled through from one table to another, Junkyu could hear Hyunsuk talking to him, but Junkyu had stopped listening. In fact, his ears were beginning to heat up in anger. But he contained it all. He’d always been an open book. He could always easily be read. And the last thing he wanted to happen was to appear irated in front of his boss. 

No, not when Junkyu had always been the picture of calm and composure at work.

Soon enough, _the table_ came into view and he saw his boss, who was talking to someone Junkyu knew too well, despite his face being turned.

His boss caught Junkyu and he smiled up at him. Junkyu smiled back.

“Who's that?” Hyunsuk asked.

“My boss.”

“Wait, is that Jihoon?”

It was. Jihoon had now turned, smiling at Junkyu as if everything was right on its place, no broken vases. Junkyu looked away, wishing that, though he didn't show it, Jihoon would see through it. 

Junkyu smiled and shook hands with his boss who had gotten to his feet. 

"Kyu," said Jihoon suddenly, "you didn't tell me this is where you were meeting your boss."

Junkyu felt his eye twitch. He forced himself to smile at Jihoon. "You're right," he said, "I didn't."

_So how are you fucking here?_

Getting the _message_ , Jihoon stood up and only then did he act like he had just seen Hyunsuk, "Hyung, you're here! Alright," he pushed back the chair under the table, "I'll leave you guys be." He then kissed Junkyu on the cheek, then, as though in a hurry, walked off without looking Junkyu in the eye.

Junkyu, frozen while keeping a grip of himself, cast an awkward glance toward his boss then tried to smile. They both sat down. 

“I’m really sorry I’m late,” said Junkyu, “sir.”

“We’re outside the workplace, Junkyu,” said his boss, and Junkyu slightly felt uneasy by the use of the first-name basis since his boss referred to him as _Mr.Kim_ , “call me Mashiho.”

And then the most unbearable lunch known to date began.

The next hour became so uncomfortable for Junkyu, sitting there and bearing with such apprehension that he could barely contribute to his and Mashiho's conversation anymore nor laugh along to his jokes. And now, as they fell into a long agonizing silence, Jihoon's laughter became even louder.

Junkyu resisted to roll his eyes.

In between talks since the past hour, Junkyu had managed to surmise how Jihoon and Hyunsuk had come to be in the very place he was meeting his boss at. And Junkyu couldn't help but feel bad for Hyunsuk who had obviously been used as a decoy.

Though for all Junkyu knew, Hyunsuk could be in it with Jihoon.

Hyunsuk was the only other person who knew that much about Junkyu's work life, being Junkyu's closest confidant. So Junkyu was forced to think back to that day Hyunsuk said Jihoon had met with him. Junkyu wondered what Hyunsuk could have told Jihoon. 

But Junkyu wasn't given more time to ponder, for Mashiho had begun talking again. Snapping back to reality, Junkyu said, "I'm sorry, what?" Then, clearly an afterthought, "Sir."

"I didn't know you had a. . . boyfriend."

Junkyu almost choked. Trying to smile at Mashiho, he took a sip of his wine before answering.

_Neither did I._

"I. . ." Junkyu began, ". . . We. . . We like to keep it private. I guess. I, um. . ."

"Yeah, I mean," said Mashiho, "these days that really is the most sensible thing to do. With all these hate around the world."

"Yeah," Junkyu said, strangely finding that too true that he suddenly felt sad, "but I think it's because most leaders today, they're—well, pretty much, douchebags."

"I know," said Mashiho, "then from there it's pretty much the domino effect, right? So, it really is true, I guess, that people do copy from the example."

Junkyu found himself smiling. He'd always longed for these kinds of conversations. And only with his boss could he share something like this.

"Well, I'd beg to differ," said Junkyu, "I don't think bad leaders change people. I think they reveal them."

Mashiho smiled at Junkyu. Junkyu, proud, mirrored the smile.

"That's very true, too, Junkyu," said Mashiho, and Junkyu, blushing, had to break eye contact.

"But you're a good one," said Junkyu, unlooking, "you lead well."

"That's. . . really good to hear, Junkyu," said Mashiho, "especially from you."

Junkyu played with the fork. His heart was beating faster. He had run out of words to say. So he let whatever it was that needed to be said left hanging in the air, as he also realized that during the short exchange of a slightly serious talk between him and his boss, Jihoon had turned quiet.

Now Junkyu racked his mind on what he ought to do next, check on his _self-proclaimed boyfriend_ and his hyung or try to come up with anything to say to his boss.

And it seemed the universe was on Junkyu's side. For Mashiho’s phone began to ring. Junkyu watched as his boss picked it up. He gestured at Junkyu, who nodded. Then Junkyu finally cast a glance behind him.

And to his surprise, Jihoon was already looking at him, then smiled as soon as Junkyu had turned. Whatever he and Mashiho had talked about, he could find out later. For now Junkyu was somewhat pleased Mashiho hadn’t tried to gauge so much form Junkyu. But then again, Mashiho was a gentleman. He wouldn’t be where he was if he wasn't someone who didn’t know when not to cross the line.

It took another five minutes before Mashiho finally announced that he needed to leave. Though he presented a reasonable excuse, Junkyu couldn’t help but feel that his boss was making it up but then he only realized it was for the best anyway.

Mashiho got to his feet, quickly hugging Junkyu as he assured him that the bill had already been taken care of, then walked to Jihoon and Hyunsuk’s table to shake both men’s hands.

When he was gone, Junkyu, sitting, took a little time to himself. He drank the remaining of his drink, staring into space.

Just as he thought he’d doze off, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Hyunsuk standing behind him, smiling. “Let’s go?” he asked him.

Trying to smile, Junkyu got up. He followed Hyunsuk, passing Jihoon, who was still sitting but was preparing to stand, a quick look. When Junkyu was past his chair, Junkyu heard him get up and follow him. Quietly.

Once outside though, while Junkyu and Hyunsuk had stopped under the shade of artificial coconut trees to rest, Jihoon had walked on, leaving them. He did stop about five meters away from where the two stood, bathing under the sun as he started to tinker on his phone.

Junkyu turned to Hyunsuk. “Did he drag you to this, hyung?”

“Hmm?” Hyunsuk replied, trying to widen his eyes as he flashed an innocent look. But Junkyu had seen it many times.

“Hyung, please.”

Hyunsuk’s shoulders dropped. “Fine,” he said, “yeah. But I didn’t realize until I got here.”

“Realize?” said Junkyu. “You mean you didn’t have an idea?”

Hyunsuk chuckled. “It’s alright,” he said, “I had fun—well, sorry, Kyu, it’s definitely not okay. We ruined your date.”

“It’s not a date,” said Junkyu, “and no, you didn’t—ruin anything. There was nothing that needed some. . . ruining.”

“Oh.”

“I just. . . I’m sorry about this, hyung.”

“No, it’s really okay,” said Hyunsuk, “it should be us who should be sorry. I should have forced Jihoon to go to another place instead. It’s just that. . . felt I owed him, Kyu. I asked him to come to Doyoung’s party.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“And he actually listened,” said Junkyu, who had intended it to be a question.

Hyunsuk started to say something but Junkyu was already looking at Jihoon. Junkyu could hear Hyunsuk say something about needing to meet with Doyoung personally for a gift or something.

Then, Junkyu, not realizing that he was thinking out loud, mumbled, as he looked on at Jihoon, “You’ve gone too far.”

Blinking, Junkyu embarrassedly turned to see if Hyunsuk had heard, and it seemed he had, because he had averted his gaze. Then, still not meeting Junkyu’s eyes, he said something that shocked Junkyu.

“Then stop making him chase your tail, Kyu.”

Junkyu, red-faced, looked at Hyunsuk. He tried to smile. “W—what?” Junkyu managed.

Now Junkyu found Hyunsuk’s smile unnerving. 

“Nothing. . . sorry, Kyu,” said Hyunsuk. “Forget I said anyth—”

“No, hyung. Please. I—be honest.”

Hyunsuk, sighing, put both of his hands on Junkyu’s shoulders. “I love you, Junkyu, you know that,” he began, “And I love Jihoon, too. And I know you do, too. So don’t be so hard on him, okay?”

“Hyung, that’s unfa—”

“No, no, let me correct that,” said Hyunsuk, “sorry. I meant to say, you guys. . . don’t be so hard on each other. . .”

Junkyu didn’t know what to say. In the end he let out a laugh. Hyunsuk hugged him, patting his back. Oddly enough, Junkyu felt himself soften. 

Junkyu took a deep breath.

 _Thanks, hyung_.

Junkyu, though smiling now, felt like tearing up, wondering how things would have turned out if Hyunsuk hadn’t been around—if Junkyu didn’t have him in his life.

Alone now with Jihoon inside the cab, Junkyu stared outside—or rather, he let the dizzying blurr of everything outside lull him to sleep.

Hyunsuk had gone about separately. But he had promised the two of them to call for a proper threesome date that was long overdue.

Junkyu felt a hand on his and he blinked eyes before turning to see Jihoon looking at him. He waited.

“You tired?”

Junkyu heaved a sigh, then nodded.

Jihoon squeezed his hand. And Junkyu could feel that he was waiting for him to retract his hand, to reject the gesture. Junkyu looked through Jihoon’s eyes, tried to count the times he had gotten lost into those deep abysses. Closing his eyes, Junkyu pulled his hand.

But only to clasp it with Jihoon’s. Feeling light-hearted again, Junkyu dozed off. 

Junkyu was woken up by a nudge on the shoulder.

“You’re here,” he heard Jihoon say.

Junkyu blinked at him then to the gate of his apartment. He licked his lips then prepared to hop out of the cab. Once outside, he held the door open, looking at Jihoon.

“Aren’t you coming out?”

Jihoon, looking surprised, chuckled as he paid the driver, then hurried to get out.

As Junkyu led the way inside his apartment, he was hit by a feeling of deja vu, but unwilling to indulge some images in his head, he ignored it and went straight into his room to, originally, change, but as soon as he saw his bed, he let his body collapse onto it. He closed his eyes.

He heard Jihoon followed him inside. Then he heard some shuffling. When it went quiet, he opened his eyes. 

Jihoon was standing by the table, hands gripping the edges, looking at Junkyu. He had removed his suit and only now was Junkyu finally realizing that Jihoon had only worn a plain white T-shirt as an undershirt. Now, without the black suit, Jihoon looked lighter and more. . . (Junkyu didn't want to think about it, because he thought it was cheesy, but there was no other word to describe it). . . angelic.

"Jihoon. . ." Junkyu found himself saying. Jihoon slightly raised his eyebrows, but Junkyu realized he had lost the energy to say what he needed to say.

He was too tired to confront Jihoon. And with how Jihoon looked, taller now in his white shirt and black pants, his mind was befuddled. 

"Come," Junkyu found himself finishing. And he was even surprised at the word that had come out of his mouth. But it was too late. Jihoon was walking toward him. 

Junkyu wanted to snort. To laugh. He wanted to make everything a joke. But it was too late. So he patted the space beside him. Jihoon sat. 

Junkyu looked at him through half-lidded eyes. He wanted to say something. But as Jihoon leaned to prop on one elbow and Junkyu caught a whiff of his cologne, the words abandoned him.

With his finger, Jihoon brushed away a portion of Junkyu's bangs that had stuck in his eyelashes. Junkyu closed his eyes.

"What am I to you, Jihoon?"

Junkyu didn't open his eyes. He waited.

"Someone. . . very special. . . Kyu."

Junkyu did snort this time. "Like your mom."

Jihoon was quiet.

Junkyu opened his eyes and jerked up. He was just springing to his feet when Jihoon grabbed him back onto the bed. Junkyu glared at him, but he waited.

"It's not. . ." Jihoon began, ". . . It's not that easy for me, Kyu. It's—I'm—"

"I understand that," said Junkyu, looking away, preparing again to stand up, "I. . . have to change."

But Jihoon didn't let him get to his feet.

This time Junkyu let his anger show through his eyes. But as soon as he looked through Jihoon's, he was pacified.

Jihoon's eyes were glassy, and also noticing that his jaw had now set, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, Junkyu knew then that Jihoon was holding back tears.

Junkyu softened. 

And Jihoon took his chance.

Jihoon leaned forward to kiss Junkyu, but unlike the last time at the park, Jihoon didn't wait. He just went on, demanding. 

And this time, Junkyu reciprocated. He allowed Jihoon to lay him on his back, then climb on top of him. Now Junkyu felt his body burn with desire. He kissed Jihoon as Jihoon kissed him. Even when they paused to catch their breaths, their mouths wouldn't really part. They basically breathed on each other's mouth. 

It wasn't stopping. Junkyu kissed Jihoon hungrily, passionately, his head now filled of the image of a Jihoon he had first met then transitioning into the man he had so seemingly quickly become.

Now Jihoon broke from the kiss, but only to start kissing Junkyu all over the face. Then, when he started going down to Junkyu's neck, biting, Junkyu's eyes snapped open, ready to push and utter complaint. But then he heard the older man let out a husky moan, then, shifting to the other side of Junkyu's neck, mumbled, "My Kyu."

Junkyu's heart rate picked up. He felt his head whirred. But in pleasure.

Relaxing, Junkyu closed his eyes and allowed Jihoon to leave his marks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not talking.  
> I'm going to let this chptr be etched  
> inside ur head instead  
> later as you go to bed XD
> 
> no, but actully, for those who haven't tapped me on twttr yet, I changed my username to @kyukemon. I know, i listened to Taeyang's ringa linga, saw the chance and my angsty heart took it. But yeah, I follow back u guys! I'm not a snob T*T I want us to band together! So I'll be expecting u there.
> 
> Oooh, & I'm working on a christmas jikyu fluff u guys^^ u didn't know??? Well that's bc we're not mutuals on twttr yet, so now go get ur angsty-feeding ass up there!<3<3
> 
> But before that, THOUGHTS???? XD


	9. Lick My Wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I never got to say this but One Way Love was inspired by Hyolyn's song of the same title (I wanted to say SISTAR's Hyolyn but I can't u guys, I get emotional T.T). So yeah, I was a 2nd gen KPOP fan u guys & I think, somehow, the title choice (which was dffrnt when I first drafted this) was my way of linking my 'roots' to the generation that is TREASURE (ok, that was exagged, there are definitely more other grps to stan, but u guys, I'm committed to TREASURE, lol!)
> 
> Also, I can't believe we've come this far u guys. HAPPY 3 MOS OLD to us! XD Thank u for trusting me and sticking with all the angst only to find urself entangled in more angst! XD 
> 
> Now, onto the chapter!

Although his eyes were closed, Junkyu was very much awake. He was lying closely beside Jihoon—in fact, too closely. He was wrapped around Jihoon's arm, curled up like a baby. Junkyu found the heaving of the older man's chest soothing and even thought he could now hear his heartbeat—slow, but beating hard. 

_He'd fallen asleep again._

Very slowly Junkyu looked up to watch Jihoon’s sleeping face. Jihoon's lips were slightly parted, and right then Junkyu felt an urge to playfully stick a finger. And he almost did, but changed his mind and retracted it.

His lips shut tightly so as to avoid making a noise, Junkyu giggled. 

Then he felt Jihoon's chest vibrate. Surprised, Junkyu looked up. Jihoon was laughing. And it made Junkyu smile, too.

Jihoon reached for Junkyu's face to try and stick his fingers inside Junkyu's nostrils but Junkyu, laughing, quickly jerked up, slapping Jihoon on the chest.

Jihoon, laughing as well, grabbed him, pulled him back. Junkyu tried to break free, but Jihoon was now wrestling him with both arms and feet, then strong-handed Junkyu's head so that it was pressed against Jihoon's bare chest.

"Jiho—omp!"

Jihoon had now locked Junkyu with his body—and his head. And Junkyu, for some reason, couldn't stop laughing. He was in such a state of glee that he no longer had the energy to grapple free. In the end he had given up, but just so Jihoon would loosen his grip.

And as they both stilled, they fell into silence, and so quiet had they become that they could now hear each other breathing.

Junkyu found himself closing his eyes. He was feeling something in his belly. And he hated that he liked it very much. Because as much as he'd like to believe that he would be able to resist it, if Jihoon made a move, he knew he would give in.

Because although many hours had already passed, he was still intoxicated with the ghost of Jihoon's cologne, as if it had chosen to envelope Jihoon forever. 

Junkyu breathed Jihoon in. He might be intoxicated not only of the cologne that had rubbed on him, but of Jihoon himself.

_I'm so freaking in love, damn it._

"Kyu."

"Hmm?"

But Jihoon didn't continue. Curious, Junkyu looked up. 

And Junkyu thought he was seeing a different Jihoon. Like a Jihoon who had aged up, but in a good, sexy way. Junkyu felt an electric shock course through his body. He wanted to look away. To stand up. To escape before it was too late.

But the pull was stronger.

And then he did it.

He leaned closer to kiss Jihoon. Junkyu snaked his arm around the back of Jihoon's neck and then he let his hand felt the older man's soft hair. Then with the same hand lightly pushed Jihoon's head forward, sealing the kiss.

Then Junkyu broke away, catching his breath. He was not meeting Jihoon's eyes, embarrassed now of what he had just done. 

Jihoon tilted Junkyu's head with his finger. 

"I loved it," he said to Junkyu, then lightly kissing the tip of his nose.

"I. . ." Junkyu swallowed, ". . . I don't know—I don't think I'm. . . that good."

When Jihoon smiled, Junkyu blushed. He looked away. But Jihoon made him look at him again.

Jihoon leaned closer. And so did Junkyu, his mouth parted, waiting. But Jihoon didn't do it. Junkyu looked at him. Jihoon was smiling, then he leaned in again. Junkyu did the same. Then Jihoon leaned away. Junkyu frowned. Then his face cleared.

_He's playing. He knows I want it. Fine._

Junkyu grabbed Jihoon by the neck and smacked their lips together. 

He almost broke away as embarrassment hit him as quickly as their lips made contact, but Jihoon didn't let him. And so Junkyu allowed it.

When they parted, Junkyu's eyes were closed, and he didn't open them again. His mind was filled with so many things he wanted to ask—say. But he wanted the moment to stay just as it was. He wanted to savor it. . . while it lasted.

Junkyu buried his face in Jihoon's neck. And before Junkyu could think, he said it.

"I love you."

He was pretty sure he said it in his head. But it didn’t matter. It was about time. 

And if he was being honest, Junkyu didn’t care if Jihoon didn't say it back. Junkyu understood now the whole _situation._ And he respected the fact that it had stopped calling for words. Just feelings. And emotions. And whatever happened. . .

_Let it be. . ._

“I love you, Kyu.”

A beat. 

Slowly, Junkyu opened his eyes. He looked up. And Jihoon looked at him, eyes droopy.

“Why?” Junkyu heard himself saying. 

He didn’t know where it had come from. Clearly, he wasn’t thinking, and clearly it was rude of him to ask that. You never had to ask anyone why they loved you. And hadn’t he just told himself that he just wanted to _be in_ the moment? No explanations. No reasons. 

But he wanted to know—he _needed to know_.

Because he knew in himself that even up to this moment, even though the two of them were touching skin to skin, he still wasn’t sure about _what_ they really had.

And to Junkyu’s astonishment, Jihoon looked calm—serene even. “What do you mean ‘why’?”

Junkyu looked away. “Never mind.”

“You mean why do I love you?”

Junkyu didn’t answer. He felt Jihoon pull him closer to his body. Junkyu relished the moment. It was a bliss. And he wanted to say that Jihoon could forget about what he had just said, that Junkyu would rather prefer them like this, no words involved. But what Jihoon was just about to say might have just changed his mind.

“Because you. . .” said Jihoon, “. . . you make me feel like a man, Kyu.”

Junkyu might have trembled right there—right at Jihoon’s arms. 

Not knowing what to say, Junkyu snuggled closer. 

_How_ , he heard himself ask in his head. He held it back.

But then. . .

“So,” Junkyu began, eyes still closed, trying to rephrase his words in his head, make them sound less demanding, “do you love me only because you. . . need me? To. . . make you feel what you can’t. . . do yourself?”

Junkyu almost crossed his fingers, cursed himself. Why couldn’t he just shut his mouth? Why couldn’t he just let the moment be as it was?

Because Kim Junkyu. . . he always needed an answer.

He felt Jihoon’s lips on top of his head. “I guess,” he whispered, “that and the fact that I want to make you the happiest person alive.”

Junkyu wanted to believe that. So he shut his eyes tighter and forced himself to stop talking, let that be the end of the conversation. This was a beautiful moment he wished to treasure, and he couldn't mess that up just because he couldn’t rise above his trust issues. 

_Try, Junkyu. Fucking try._

“Your boss,” Jihoon began talking again, “he’s a nice man.”

Junkyu didn’t say anything. He had already decided not to ask Jihoon what he and his boss had talked about. And he had also put it past behind him what Jihoon had done, showing up in that restaurant uninvited and almost embarrassing Junkyu.

“He’s a decent person,” Jihoon went on, “very. . . unlike me.”

Junkyu knew where it was heading, but still he asked, “What are you saying?”

He felt Jihoon’s chest heave. “Nothing,” he said.

“You are a decent person, too, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s chest vibrated. “Is that why you hate me so much?”

Junkyu looked up. And fingers shaking, he reached for Jihoon’s face. Then he leaned in to kiss him. When he broke away, he said, “Why do you think that?”

But Jihoon didn’t answer. Junkyu thought he was looking at a half a man, half a child. 

“What did you say to Mash—to my boss?”

“Nothing,” said Jihoon, “just. . . small talk.”

“Small talk being. . .”

“I told him I’m your boyfriend.”

“So I heard.”

Jihoon broke eye contact. Junkyu saw his Adam's apple bob. “He told me how lucky I was tha—”

“Well, you don’t have to feel that way,” said Junkyu, “I’m not some saint, I don—”

“But I do feel that way,” said Jihoon, “I’m lucky to have you.”

Silence. 

"Kyu."

Junkyu couldn't help but chuckle. Which was only intensified when he saw Jihoon's baffled face.

"What?" said Jihoon as he frowned.

"Nothing," said Junkyu.

But really Junkyu was laughing at how Jihoon would always start everything with _Kyu_ , as though it was a preamble to an oath. He found it funny, because he had gotten used to it. And he didn't like getting used to things he knew wouldn't last.

Junkyu looked Jihoon in the eye. "What was it you were going to say?"

"Oh. Your boss."

"What about him?"

Jihoon paused. Then he said, "Why were you guys meeting?"

Junkyu didn't bat an eyelash. "Work stuff."

"Work stuff," Jihoon repeated, nodding his head, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself with something.

"You don't believe me?" asked Junkyu.

"No," said Jihoon, "no—I mean, yes I believe you," then quietly, "I have to."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Okay."

"Okay."

"I need to show up for work in two hours," said Junkyu.

"Oh, okay."

Expecting to be released, Jihoon just hugged him tighter instead. Junkyu, knowing all too well that he probably loved _this_ better than Jihoon, let himself be held as if it was his last.

Now sitting alone at a bus stop shed, rapt at his phone, Junkyu re-read the text-message Jihoon had just sent him.

_Mom wants me home for christmas. U think u can come?_

It wasn't that Junkyu didn't want to. He was simply surprised because as far as he could remember, Jihoon wasn't on good terms with his mom. And now, all of a sudden, she was inviting Jihoon to a dinner. Which made Junkyu happy, of course, because it meant they had reconciled.

But what also surprised him was that Jihoon was inviting him, and he wondered why.

Junkyu had never met Jihoon's mom or any of his relatives, for that matter. In fact, none of Junkyu and Hyunsuk had met any of Jihoon' friends before he met them.

Junkyu put down his phone and let himself think for a moment. He wanted to spend time with his family, too. But at the same time, he felt the need to come with Jihoon. To finally _know_.

Because Junkyu took this gesture as Jihoon finally acknowledging Junkyu as someone so important he was willing to introduce him to his mother.

Junkyu was just about to type a reply when he glanced up to see a woman approaching toward the shed. Junkyu looked for almost a minute, then scooted when the woman took a seat.

Looking away, Junkyu went back to his phone but he had now forgotten what he was going to write.

"It's so cold these days," he heard the woman say.

Junkyu cast her a quick smile, then returned to his phone, pretending to be typing. But then, finally thinking of something, he blurted, “I quite like it.”

The woman glanced at him, and actually looked happy to have gotten a response from Junkyu. “Well, yeah,” she smiled, “me, too, actually. It’s just that sometimes, it’s hard to predict how cold it’ll get.”

“You’re right,” said Junkyu. 

“Even people are becoming _colder_ ,” said the woman, letting out an awkward giggle.

Junkyu tried to laugh to let her know he got the joke. Then he said, “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, nothing,” smiled the woman, “you know. Just relationships and stuff. I mean. . . well, no offense, you probably wouldn’t know. You’re a guy.”

“Well, _technically_ , I’m not,” said Junkyu. He cast a knowing smile toward the woman. She looked at him, then her face cleared; she smiled, thought of saying something but thought against it, then just nodded her head.

“But yeah,” she said finally, then her face turning a little sadder, “people, like seasons, do change, I guess.”

Junkyu thought he liked that, and he agreed. Taking a deep breath, he looked up to the sky. 

_Yes, they do_.

“So you gotta be wiser,” the woman went on, winking at Junkyu.

“What do you mean?”

The woman looked at him. She smiled so beautifully that it looked like a natural and a permanent feature of her face. 

_No wonder—_

“Well,” she said, then stopped for a second, looking unsure if she should talk or not, “never mind, I shouldn’t be telling you this— I mean don’t get me wrong. You’re probably thinking `why is this stranger talking about her personal life’.”

Then she laughed.

“Oh,” said Junkyu, trying to laugh, “well, if you don’t feel comfortable, it’s totally okay.”

“Actually, can I ask you a question?”

Junkyu looked at her. “Of course.”

“How do you feel about ‘open relationships’?”

Junkyu blinked. He looked away for a second. “That’s like,” he began, “getting with someone without full commitment, right? And you have each other’s consent?”

She laughed. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“I don’t know,” said Junkyu, smiling, “my lifestyle kind of caters to that.”

The woman laughed. “Really?”

“I think so,” Junkyu laughed.

“So you’re okay with that?”

Junkyu thought for a moment. “If you asked me that before I met my. . . boyfriend, I. . . I would have said yes.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, sorry to disappoint.”

“Oh, no, please,” said the woman, “don’t be. It’s nice to hear that actually. I needed to hear that.”

Junkyu thought he should stop, that there was no need for him to pry anymore. But he said, “Mind telling me why?”

“I, um. . .” she looked at him, “well, screw this. I think you’re trustworthy really, and anyway we probably won’t see each other again, but I. . . I have a boyfriend. Like a _real_ boyfriend. And then I was also meeting. . . someone, I guess.”

“And it was okay with your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” said the woman, shyly. 

“What about this. . . _other_ guy?” asked Junkyu.

“He knew about my boyfriend, too,” said the woman. “But we’re nothing really serious. Just two people trying to distract each other from real life _relationships_.”

“So this _other_ guy you’re seeing, he’s got a girlfriend, too?”

“I think so,” said the woman, “though he wouldn’t really admit it. Or you know, I could be wrong. But he’s a good guy. He makes me laugh. He’s. . . nice.”

Junkyu didn’t know what else to say. And he didn’t need to think harder, because the woman spoke again.

“Actually, I don’t think me and my boyfriend are getting back together,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” sighed the woman, “we outgrew each other, I guess.”

“Oh.”

“And I think I’m in love with this _other_ guy,” she went on to say, “too bad we’ve ended _it_.”

Junkyu looked at her. “Do you,” he began, “plan on pursuing _it_?”

She looked back, a little smile on her face, “I don’t know. . .”

Smiling sympathetically, Junkyu looked away. 

“. . . but I think I’m open to the possibility.”

Junkyu looked at her again. He was just about to say something when he heard the bus pull over.

The two of them got to their feet. Junkyu allowed the woman to go in first. Once inside the bus, he saw her take the unoccupied seat beside an elderly lady. Junkyu took the other just behind hers’.

Junkyu, unconsciously, found himself staring at the back of the woman’s seat. He was thinking about a lot of things about her, but he was, particularly, wondering why she was commuting, when the first time he’d ever seen her, she was driving her car.

Sighing, Junkyu averted his gaze past the student beside him into the window, thinking to himself that indeed, it was a small world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can finally rest easy at night thinking that SHE has finally told her side of the story:) (U guys do realize SHE was right?)><
> 
> Anyway, u guys excited about that 'CHRISTMAS PRESENT' TREASURE is preparing for us teumes?? Cos I hella am!
> 
> Well let's all geek out on the comments section u guys! THOUGHTS?? <3<3<3


	10. Becoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 12\. 19. 2020. Never have I felt such a strong physical feeling in my body. I told @excrde about the fic 'Bossy' just hrs b4 I decided to post it. But she didn't know i will, nor did she know the title. Only that she knows it exists & that it's not finished yet. And then I found myself visiting TRSR's tw & saw Junkyu's selca whch was followed by Junghwan's playful vid right? then was followed by Jihoon's selca.
> 
> It was nothng extraordinary, really. Just regular stalking moment.
> 
> Do u guys ever get that feeling where u just--well, not confident--but it's just too strong like u know it'll happen bcos Idk it was one of those WELL-ITS-ABOUT-DAMN-TIME-DUH feeling & that was just how it was for me really. 
> 
> So then I posted BOSSY and bravely declared that we're getting that jikyu selca we've been dying to get the next day. Istg I thought I was just drunk with that yummy pasta that I had.
> 
> 12\. 20. 2020. JiKyu rose from the ashes. Now let's make the phoenix soar.

Jeongwoo was already waiting by the restobar when Jihoon arrived. But Jihoon's cousin, who was so rapt at his phone, had not seen Jihoon pass by the glass window and even smiled at him. So, as Jihoon entered the restobar, he walked tiptoeing towards his cousin's table then startled him by squeezing both hands on his cousin's waist.

Jeongwoo's body jerked and his head snapped toward Jihoon, gawking and almost looking viciously at him—but seeing Jihoon, his face softened, then a smile broke in his face.

Jihoon, grinning, sat down across Jeongwoo, his eyes immediately darting to the heavily-stuffed bag beside his cousin.

"You goin' on a camp?" Jihoon joked, smiling.

Jeongwoo didn't smile, his eyes still on his phone. "I'm coming with auntie."

Jihoon frowned. Jeongwoo seemed to have sensed this, for he looked up.

"I mean," Jeongwoo went on, "auntie's coming with me. She's spending the Chris—"

"What?" said Jihoon. "Why?"

"I don't know," Jeongwoo shrugged, returning to his phone, "maybe it's because her son won't be coming home for Christmas, so sh—"

"So you guys are heading to Iksan right after this?"

"Yup," said Jeongwoo.

Jihoon let that sink in. Somehow, it made him feel a little sad—but also relieved, because just an hour ago he'd been debating whether to let his mom stay the night in his apartment.

When his mom had called to ask for him to come home for Christmas, it couldn't have been a more perfect time, since Jihoon had felt like he and Junkyu we're finally and certainly starting at something that was borne not only out of physical attraction, but also—most importantly and something which made Jihoon feel really proud and happy—mutual respect.

So the very thought that his mom had suddenly, in a way made her presence known, got Jihoon into thinking that maybe the universe was talking to him—was trying to say something. And though he wasn't sure what that might be, he took it as a sign for him to start again. To re-establish relationships.

Which only proved how much Junkyu's presence in his life made such an impact. And so he had come up with an idea to ask Junkyu to spend Christmas with him in Busan. But he had—as soon as he'd sent the text message—realized how insensitive it was of him to ask of Junkyu, as Junkyu had a family of his own. 

Jihoon knew that if he tried hard enough, he would be able to convince Junkyu. And if he had been the person he was a year ago, he would probably have done just that. 

But he was no longer the person he was a year ago. In fact, he was no longer the person three months ago. He didn't know who he was, at the moment, but he was sure of one thing. 

He liked who he was becoming.

And so thirty minutes after sending that text-message, he had called Junkyu and told him that Jihoon had called his mom and had told her to bring her out on a lunch date for Christmas instead, in the city. Though Junkyu didn't let it show, Jihoon could tell that Junkyu had been surprised, and in a way it made Jihoon feel, strangely though it sounded, so close to Junkyu because Junkyu's silence meant that he remembered everything Jihoon had ever shared, and that he still honored it.

"Auntie should be here by now," Jihoon heard Jeongwoo say.

Jihoon looked up at him, then back to his phone. 

"How about Junkyu-hyung, by the way?"

Jihoon ignored his cousin, started typing.

"Is Junkyu-hyung really coming? He's probably busy. He's got a big family, hyung."

Jihoon sent the message to his mom.

"Doyoung added a picture in his IG Story this morning," Jeongwoo blabbered on, "they were all hard at work making all this. . . food. Junkyu-hyung's probably—"

"He's coming, okay," said Jihoon, unable to hold back his annoyance at his cousin anymore, "stop saying he won't. 'Cause I swear to god. . ."

Jihoon ended it right there. His cousin only looked at him, then returned to his phone. Sighing, Jihoon wondered why he had even thought of inviting Jeongwoo to come.

Or maybe Jihoon did know the answer. 

He had not seen his mom in months and had barely talked to her over the phone. So he had thought that, should things get a little awkward, he could just leave with Junkyu, make some silly excuse, but at least Jeongwoo would still be around to keep his mom company while Jihoon secured Junkyu far from the tension—because Jihoon's mother was full of it.

"Oh, there they are."

Jihoon looked up at Jeongwoo, then followed where his cousin was looking. Which was outside the glass window where Jihoon saw Junkyu and his mom approaching, laughing at each other as they walked.

The sight sent shivers over Jihoon's spine.

Jeongwoo waved his hand, now smiling. Jihoon saw Junkyu catch it and he smiled back at Jeongwoo, then turned to look at Jihoon, who smiled. Jihoon waited. And when Junkyu smiled at him, with Jihoon’s mother’s arm linked with him, a feeling of utmost gratification and pride washed over Jihoon. And now he couldn’t stop smiling.

As soon as the two had come in and sat down, Jihoon said, “Mom, you didn’t have to bother Junkyu. You said you could manage on your own.”

“Of course, I could,” said Mrs. Park. 

“I insisted,” said Junkyu. 

“You should have told me then,” said Jihoon to Junkyu, trying to sound casual when really the mere sight of Junkyu’s face stirred excitement all over his. . . body, “I could have gone straight to the station t—”

“Oh, enough, Hoonie,” said Mrs. Park, “just get us some food already, because Junkyu needs some color back in his face.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jihoon saw Jeongwoo smirk. His cousin always seemed to have found the nickname funny. 

Ignoring him, Jihoon raised his arm to call on a waiter. He ordered a variety of selection of food, but only because his mother seemed to be unimpressed with anything, stating that she could probably do it all at home (and better) anyway, so she had let Jihoon and the rest choose whatever. Jeongwoo, on the other hand, had specific requests.

“Is that all?” Jihoon asked him when he felt Jeongwoo had run out of suggestions.

“Yes, I guess so,” answered his cousin, then, grinning, “ _Hoonie_.”

Only when Jihoon stopped talking to the waiter and the waiter had disappeared did Jihoon realize that Junkyu and his mom had already leapt into a conversation. Jihoon watched and started listening.

“So your father works abroad,” Jihoon heard his mom ask Junkyu. 

And at that, Jihoon slightly tensed. He wasn’t liking the topic of the conversation.

“Yes, auntie,” said Junkyu, “in England.”

“I’d love to visit England,” said Mrs. Park cheerfully, “I thi—oh, so have you ever visited the country then?”

“Yes, when I was eighteen, auntie,” said Junkyu, “I went there with my brother.”

“Just the two of you, hyung?” Jeongwoo chimed in.

“Yeah,” smiled Junkyu, then to Jihoon he said, “that was the most adult I’ve ever felt. At a young age.”

Jihoon smiled, but Junkyu had already turned to his mom. Though Jihoon was still listening, he could no longer take in the conversation because he was now imagining that day Junkyu described they had boarded that plane, with Doyoung. He was now watching in his head a younger Junkyu with a much younger Doyoung. Junkyu was leading his brother, holding him by his shoulders. Jihoon could clearly see how nervous Junkyu must have been—but he could also see Junkyu purse his lips and keep himself together. 

Jihoon blinked. He realized he'd been holding his breath. Trying to avoid attention, he looked away from everybody, frowning at himself. He didn't know how that came to him as clear as a movie. 

Jihoon forced himself to go back to the present and start to listen again.

“. . . but we couldn’t really go out that much,” Junkyu was saying, “because though we knew English, we. . . I wasn’t that confident. I was really shy when I was younger.”

“Really?” exclaimed Mrs. Park, “Junkyu you don’t strike me as shy.”

Jihoon had to smile. He answered for Junkyu, “Junkyu’s more comfortable around older, more mature people,” he said. 

And he wished he hadn’t done that because his mom was quick to say, “Well, lucky you.”

Jihoon reddened. Looking away, he said, “What are you saying, mom?”

“Well,” said Mrs. Park, “you’re probably not the most mature person in Junkyu’s life.”

Junkyu laughed kindly. Jihoon smiled. 

“You’ll be surprised, auntie,” said Junkyu, which, funnily enough, surprised Jihoon, “Jihoon can get very serious sometimes you’d think he’s some sage or something.”

“Well, thank god all my _hard work_ has paid off,” said Mrs. Park, then laughed. She turned to Jeongwoo who wasn’t laughing until she looked at him.

Jihoon was just about to try and change the topic when his mom said to Junkyu, “So do you call your father often?”

“Mom,” said Jihoon, “that’s really none of our business.” 

When Jihoon looked at Junkyu, he was smiling, then to Jihoon’s mom, he simply said, “We do, auntie. And he's actually my step father. He's Doyoung's father.”

Everyone, including Jihoon, went silent. 

“Well, I hope Jihoonie would do the same,” said Mrs. Park, smiling as if to assure Junkyu that what he had just announced didn't matter, “he hasn’t been calling me for so long. It seems he’s gotten so busy. Have you got a girlfriend, perhaps, Jihoonie?”

Jihoon averted his gaze. “Mom,” he said impatiently.

“What? I want to know,” said Mrs. Park, then earning no response from him she turned to Jeongwoo, “tell me, does your cousin have a girlfriend?”

That was when Jihoon finally said, resisting to look at Junkyu, “No, mom. I don't. I'm not in a relationship, just. . . let it go.”

Just then their orders started coming and Jihoon was spared from further discomfort. He hadn’t looked at Junkyu since. When they started eating, Jihoon would only very occasionally throw a glance toward Junkyu, who would not catch it because he was either slurping or talking to Jihoon's mom or asking Jeongwoo questions about school stuff, and when Jihoon's mom said something or would compliment Junkyu, Jihoon would smile but would not really look at Junkyu.

When they all finished, though full now, Jihoon's energy had waned. 

Because he knew he'd ruined it all. Again.

Now Junkyu was standing up, excusing himself for the loo. When he had turned, Jihoon got to his feet, too, to follow him.

Once inside, Jihoon waited for Junkyu to come out of the stall. And when the latter did, he was startled, surprised to see Jihoon standing there, his back reflected on the mirror.

"Jihoon."

At last, Jihoon looked at Junkyu's eyes. "Are you mad at me?"

Junkyu frowned at him, smiling. But Jihoon knew him too well. "For what?"

_I don't know. For not being brave enough._

"I'm just. . ." Jihoon began. "I'm not ready."

"I understand that," said Junkyu, "Jihoon. You never have to feel bad. I've always. . . _understood_."

Jihoon thought of something to say. But his throat felt dry.

Junkyu's phone rang. Jihoon looked up. When Junkyu picked it up and started talking, it seemed Jihoon's energy surged back. And now it seemed he'd been reminded what was _at stake_ , and that if he really wished to keep Junkyu, he had to try a little harder.

As Junkyu talked to Mashiho, he turned away a little to avert his gaze from Jihoon, whose very own gaze was now so intense Junkyu could feel it through his skin.

Junkyu cleared his throat. "I. . . have been thinking about it. . ."

Junkyu thought of excusing himself, to keep Jihoon from hearing. But there was no point. He would still have to tell Jihoon anyway. And soon.

"Junkyu?" Junkyu heard Mashiho say.

"Yes, I'm still here," said Junkyu immediately, "sir."

"I wish I'm not ruining your day," said his boss, "but your father told me he called yesterday to tell you."

Junkyu thought for a moment. "Yes, he did."

"Okay," said Mashiho, "I just wanted to check. It's crazy around there—as I'm sure you already know. _He_ needs you."

Junkyu tried to smile kindly, then realizing his boss wouldn't see it, he said, "Yeah."

"I'll hang up now," said his boss, then before ending the call, he said, "England awaits, Junkyu."

As soon as Junkyu had tucked his phone back inside his pocket, he looked at Jihoon, who looked away. Junkyu walked to him, then took Jihoon's hand. He felt Jihoon relax. Junkyu smiled at him.

Jihoon took Junkyu's other hand. Then he smiled back. The two of them walked to the door, and when they came out, Junkyu let go of Jihoon's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we're almost saying good bye to angsty Kyu and Jihoon. But well u guys, they deserve to be happy. And I can't wait for them to get that happiness they deserve T.T
> 
> THANKYOU SO MUCH FOR STICKING WITH THIS ANGSTY SHT THAT I KNOW MADE SOME OF U FELT CRAPPY BUT YOU TRUSTED ME ANYWAY SO I LOOOOOVE YOU! T.T <333


	11. Open Your Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Explicit & sensitive content ahead. I think?? LOL! Just. . . u guys know the drill. Proceed at your own angsty and smutty risk.

Jihoon's laugh came out as a series of coughs. But in spite of this, Junkyu stayed where he was—sitting right on Jihoon's stomach.

"You said I'm light," Junkyu laughed.

"You are," said Jihoon.

"Why are you out of breath then," said Junkyu. 

"I wouldn't be," said Jihoon, "if you didn't start jumping—ack! Junkyu, stop—seriously."

Junkyu, still laughing mutely, hopped off of Jihoon. Jihoon didn't sit up. Instead, smiling, he put both hands under the back of his head. 

"What was it you were going to tell me," said Jihoon. He then withdrew one hand from under his head to reach out to Junkyu.

Junkyu took Jihoon's hand and allowed himself to be pulled next to Jihoon. Jihoon snuggled him closer. 

“You have to open your heart,” said Junkyu.

Jihoon frowned. “To what?”

“To all the possibilities,” said Junkyu.

“That sounds like a song,” said Jihoon.

Junkyu laughed. “Because it is,” then turning serious again, “but I’m serious. Stop being so. . . clenched.”

“Now I don’t know what you’re talki—”

“It’s okay to be vulnerable,” said Junkyu, “especially around your mom.”

Jihoon didn’t say anything. He knew what Junkyu was doing. And he was used to it. This was one of Junkyu's traits he’d grown so accustomed to: telling Jihoon what he needed to hear.

“I know you want to be a tough man for your family,” Junkyu went on, “but she’s your ally. She needs your emotional support as you need hers, and that’s only possible when you start to finally open your heart. Do it for her, Jihoon. . . if you can’t do it for yourself.”

Jihoon had closed his eyes. And his mouth. He didn’t say anything. 

“I need. . .” said Junkyu. “I have to be home by five.”

“Okay.”

“You should have come with your mom and Jeongwoo,” said Junkyu.

Jihoon didn’t say anything. However kindly he’d like to put it, he would still, ultimately, sound selfish. But he did say, “Mom loves you.”

“I love her, too.”

“She doesn’t like me as much as she’d shown you,” said Jihoon. He felt Junkyu chuckle.

“Don’t we all think that though?” said Junkyu. "That our parents don't love us back?"

“Yeah, when we were kids.”

“Well, you are one.”

Jihoon smiled. He tilted his chin so he could bite the upper tip of Junkyu’s ear.

“Aww! See, you are one! God—Jihoon, stop!”

Jihoon did, laughing. Then when they fell into silence with nothing but the faint booming of music from Yoshi’s apartment, Jihoon said, “I’ll be catching up with them, welcome the new year there.”

“In Iksan?”

“Yeah.”

“That’ll be wonderful.”

“I know,” said Jihoon, “but aren’t you sad you won’t be welcoming it with me?”

Junkyu didn’t answer. And for no apparent reason, Jihoon felt like a one tiny needle had been pricked at his heart. It made him feel so strangely sad that he had to repeat his question, like a kid desperately demanding for an explanation.

“I will be,” Junkyu said finally, “very.”

Without warning, Jihoon’s eyes begin to water. And he could only thank the heavens that Junkyu could not see it. He tried to hold more back, breathe normally. But he could not bring himself to ask the question he’d been meaning to ask. Because he knew that by finally acknowledging it, he’d also be accepting defeat.

He needed Junkyu to decide not because Jihoon asked. He needed Junkyu to choose because it was what his heart truly desired.

After leaving the restobar earlier this afternoon and dropping both his mom and Jeongwoo to the station with Junkyu, the two of them had gone straight to Jihoon’s apartment. Which wasn’t supposed to happen, as Junkyu was supposed to return to their home, to help prepare for the Christmas dinner with his family, to which Jihoon was also invited.

But Jihoon had insisted for Junkyu to come to his apartment first, and though he didn’t exactly give Junkyu a reason, he had still managed to convince him. 

Jihoon, of course, had a reason. It was just that he didn’t know where to start. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know if he _should_ start. An hour had passed already and he still hadn’t decided. 

Jihoon knew about _it_. 

Jihoon knew about the job _offer_. Jihoon knew because Junkyu’s boss had told him about it.

Well, he hadn’t been that precise, but Jihoon didn’t need to know the details just to realize everything. And besides, with Junkyu’s recent actions, including the call he’d had on the loo this afternoon, had helped Jihoon put all the pieces together.

The calls Junkyu had been having since the night at the gazebo at the park, Jihoon had realized, weren’t all from his boss. They were from his dad. But Jihoon had been so obsessed with picturing Junkyu with someone else that he seemed to have forgotten that before he met Junkyu, Junkyu was a whole new person that would have not normally spent time with people like Jihoon. Wild. Carefree.

Because Kim Junkyu wasn’t admired simply for being kind. A lot of people were kind, but not all of them would get the same amount of respect, no. Kim Junkyu. . . he was admired because he was basically born with a silver spoon in his mouth and yet he turned out to be kind, generous and empathetic not only to the people whom he shared the same status, but to everybody.

It was only until Jihoon had deduced everything did he remember this other Kim Junkyu. The Kim Junkyu who had given up the prestige of owning his father—step father's company to his cousins and had chosen to live a simpler life, choosing to work as a regular employee instead. He and Jihoon had never talked about his dad because Jihoon had always respected Junkyu’s choice to not talk about it as the topic itself was something Jihoon despised to indulge.

“Kyu.”

Junkyu hummed in response.

“So your. . . dad,” Jihoon began, choosing not to be specific as he felt there was no need, “he lives in England now?”

“No,” said Junkyu, “he _stays_ there. But I guess you could also put it like that.”

“You know that I know about your. . . story, right?”

“What story?” said Junkyu.

“I’m about to ask you something personal,” said Jihoon.

“Fire away,” said Junkyu weakly. Jihoon smiled. He could tell that Junkyu was tired.

“Have you been up all night?” Jihoon asked.

“You could say that,” said Junkyu. And Jihoon thought he could picture him smiling. “Now to the question, please.”

“Oh, um,” Jihoon began, “why. . . why did you refuse to. . . run the company?”

To his surprise, Junkyu laughed. “Because I am an _employee_ there?” he said sarcastically.

Jihoon made a sound that he wished could pass as a laugh. He waited for Junkyu to say more. And he did. 

“It’s just simple logic, really,” Junkyu began, “my degree in Economics is nothing compared to that of my cousins', who were educated and trained to cheat on people. But professionally.”

That made Jihoon smile. 

“And that,” Junkyu went on, “I am not the _Kim_ that they are.”

“What do you mean, Kyu?” 

“It’s funny really,” said Junkyu, “mom divorces one _Kim_ then marries another. But it’s not so bad, I guess.”

Jihoon didn’t say anything. He realized now that Junkyu had never been so open about this and Jihoon, who knew exactly why and respected that, let the subject go and decided to take Junkyu’s mind away from it. 

He turned his body to look at Junkyu, then he kissed him. As their mouths sealed, Jihoon realized he had just gotten the answer to the question that had always ran in his mind. Why was Kim Junkyu drawn to someone like Park Jihoon?

It was because they had always shared something similar. 

Jihoon broke away. He thought he had summoned up some courage now.

“So,” he began, “why would you go to England?”

That had obviously taken Junkyu by surprise for his eyes widened.

“How. . . how did you know about that?”

“Your boss told me,” said Jihoon.

Mashiho had only told Jihoon about the ‘job offer’ but hadn’t exactly told Jihoon what it was, but again, Jihoon had managed to work it all out himself.

“I—”

But Jihoon didn’t let Junkyu finish. He kissed him.

Even Jihoon would not be able to tell you when did the _change_ occurred, but he had stopped being a man of words. He had learned now the power of actions. Maybe that was because he’d grown tired of proving a point, or simply because he craved for _action_. And he planned to say everything he needed to say, not through words, but through actions.

As Jihoon’s mouth went lower to Junkyu's body, Junkyu stopped him, and the latter’s eyes were wide when Jihoon looked at him.

“What are you doing?”

Jihoon kissed him, then said, “I _am_ ready,” then slithered his hand underneath the back of Junkyu’s shirt, then beyond. “Are you?”

Junkyu was breathing hard. Both of them were.

“Jihoon, I. . .”

Jihoon broke from the contact, now on his knees. He removed his shirt. Slowly, he sat on his heels, waiting for Junkyu to process. . . things.

But Jihoon realized just as quickly how Junkyu had always had trouble doing just that, that sometimes he needed help. So Jihoon leaned forward to corner Junkyu. Then he _pressed_.

Junkyu let out a small air of shock, like a gasp. This time, Jihoon was _moving_. He waited until Junkyu was comfortable, but was ready to stop if Junkyu showed the slightest protest. But no, because Junkyu had now wrapped his arms around Jihoon’s back.

Acknowledging his cue, Jihoon gently broke away from the contact and, his eyes not leaving Junkyu’s, unbuckled his belt.

Now Jihoon was going to show Junkyu a better place than that damn England.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> U guys don't look at me like that!!!
> 
> But do let me know what's going on in that now dirty mind of urs! XD


	12. Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're here. If you've stuck with this chapter by chapter, thank you. And thank you especially to those who have shared the experience with me. This had almost become a place I could return to every time. I'm kind of sad that the door is closing. But it had been such a pleasure writing this and sharing it with u guys and of course, choosing JiKyu as the center of this story.
> 
> Thanks for growing with OWL's Kyu and Jihoon.

Junkyu watched consciously as Jihoon walked across the room to take out two bottles of Soju from the mini fridge, his back muscles getting more pronounced as his back arched. Right then, Junkyu was tempted to just trace his finger across the spine.

Jihoon turned. Like a guilty culprit, Junkyu blinked and broke eye contact.

"I don't think I have anything to—"

"It's okay," said Junkyu, looking again, "we're getting blasted with carbs tonight anyway—you know what, I think we should just. . . share one bottle."

"Oh, come on," smiled Jihoon, "it won't hurt."

"My head will," said Junkyu, smiling too, "you know I don't have a strong tolerance—"

"Okay, you can have just. . . half, or whatever," laughed Jihoon, "I'll finish what's left."

Junkyu smiled. Jihoon stood up now, and with his feet gently kicked the fridge close. Then walking to the corner of the room, where the table was situated, he looked at Junkyu and tilted his head, saying, "Come. Get off the bed, Koala boy."

Junkyu's smile broadened, taking pleasure at this new nickname Jihoon had given him. He was also thankful that Jihoon had not taken such offense at his refusal to. . . do _it_. 

_It_ had taken Junkyu by such surprise that he had bolted up and almost jumped out of the bed. But Jihoon was quick to grab him and apologize repeatedly, hugging Junkyu and calming him down. So embarrassed was Junkyu for his stupid panicking that he could only wrap his arms around Jihoon and bury his face on the older man's bare chest.

"Sorry," Jihoon had repeatedly mumbled at Junkyu's hair. "Sorry."

"No," Junkyu had said, eyes closed, "I'm sorry. . . It's. . . I'm just not ready for. . . _it_."

Jihoon had then laid them both on the mattress and Junkyu had quickly fallen asleep. He had woken up twenty minutes later next to nothing. That was when Jihoon reappeared from the bathroom, looking flushed. And before Junkyu could even let out a sound, Jihoon was already walking up to the fridge.

Now here they were. Sitting across each other, casting glances, shooting smiles.

"Aren't you cold or something?" Junkyu asked.

Like an impulse, Jihoon raised his hand and let it land onto his chest, unconsciously caressing it. That to him might be as natural as blinking but it certainly had an effect on other people—like Junkyu, for example. Except this time, Junkyu did not feel the need to look away. 

"Nah," said Jihoon, "I'm used to it."

Junkyu took a sip of his Soju directly from the bottle itself. He heard Jihoon chuckle.

"Don't you like them taken by shots?" Junkyu heard him ask.

His face wrinkling, Junkyu put down the bottle, swallowed, then said, "It's a waste of time."

Jihoon smiled, then said, "Don't worry, I'll drive you."

Junkyu chuckled. "Don't bother," he said, "Yoshi might need his bike."

"They're not going anywhere."

"How can you be sure?"

Jihoon shrugged. Smiling, he said, "Trust me."

Smiling himself, Junkyu couldn't help but study the man across him. He felt like he was looking at someone almost different. 

_No_. Someone he'd always seen in Jihoon. Someone who was kind. But was hiding underneath. Junkyu remembered now why he had clung on to the idea that there was more to the Jihoon everybody had come to know in the first place. Because Jihoon had shown this side to Junkyu not many times, but just enough for Junkyu to hold on to what he and Jihoon shared. Someone who Junkyu looked forward to meeting again and talking to again. Every time. These past few weeks Junkyu had felt _this person_ coming back. The boy inside Jihoon, merging with the man that he had become, making Jihoon the person he truly was.

Now _that person_ had fully resurfaced, open and unafraid.

Though Junkyu tried to ignore it, the pride he felt for the conscious knowledge that he had played a part in all of it sent shivers all over his body. 

"Jihoon."

Jihoon looked to meet Junkyu's eyes. "Mmm?"

"Remember when I. . ." Junkyu began, ". . . when I failed to. . . show up for. . . the dinner. . ."

"Doyoung's Birthday," nodded Jihoon. "Yeah, you were knocked out. Why?"

Junkyu let seconds pass. Then, "I lied."

Jihoon looked at him, but there was not a hint of surprise on his face.

 _Of course he knows_. _He always does_. _And like always, he plays along_.

Still, Junkyu said, "Sorry."

"Where were you then?"

"At home," said Junkyu immediately, "just. . ."

Junkyu didn't know why—maybe it was his body's natural reaction to trying to hide his guilt—but he laughed, going on to say, "My. . . dad called that afternoon. He Facetimed us, actually. And—well he talked to everyone, but. . . yeah, we talked after. Alone. Just him and I. And I. . . at that point, I was. . . I believed I was over. . . _us_."

Junkyu had now looked away. Clearing his throat, he continued, "I had already gotten inside my head that I was. . . that I needed—that it's time for me to find a purpose. And my dad was. . . providing one."

Jihoon was quiet. Junkyu didn't dare look up. He couldn't say that what had pushed Junkyu to come into terms with that was the need to reinvent himself after their. . . break-up. Because true, he had forgiven Jihoon. But whether he'd forgiven himself. . . he wasn't sure.

"I don't understand, Kyu," said Jihoon. And the voice with how he'd spoken made Junkyu feel as if something had pierced through his heart.

Junkyu raised his feet to the chair then pulled them close to his chest. He didn't know what to say. Or at least he didn't know how to put the words together. He couldn't think of any way to say what he needed to say.

"Junkyu," said Jihoon, "what are you trying to say?"

Junkyu looked up, looked desperately at Jihoon. His mouth trembled—the words would not form. 

Jihoon said, quietly, "I thought we were past this. I thought I was. . . Tell me, Junkyu. . . What more do I need to do?" 

Junkyu teared up. "Nothing," he said immediately, "you don't need to do—to prove anything, Jihoon. You know I'd never ask you to do that. Not anyone. I just. . ."

 _Just say it, Junkyu._

". . . it's. . . it's no longer about. . . us, Jihoon. This is. . . this about me—I'm. . . I need to do this. I need to leave. I need to. . . I need to find myself first. . . again."

A long stretch of silence proceeded. Both had looked away from each other, Junkyu looking into the floor, and Jihoon playing with his bottle of Soju. Then in one swig, Junkyu watched him finish it. 

"Jihoon," said Junkyu worryingly, "are you. . . are you mad?"

But Jihoon didn't answer him. He didn't look at him. And Junkyu needed an answer, he needed. . . anything. He needed to see what Jihoon was feeling. He needed it to help himself decide.

Swallowing, Junkyu tried to put himself in Jihoon's situation. What would he feel? _How_ would he feel?

But then Jihoon spoke. "I thought we were starting to. . . be happier," he let out a scoff, but his eyes were sad, " _Happily Ever After_ and all that B.S."

Junkyu swallowed a sob. He thought for a moment. Then he got to his feet. He walked across the table, toward Jihoon.

Then he leaned down to hug him from behind, wrapped his arms around Jihoon's chest. Jihoon wrapped his arms around Junkyu's. Then, he made Junkyu sit on his lap. Junkyu did so, blushing. Which was even magnified when Jihoon hugged him.

Junkyu realized then that he would always crave for the warmth of Jihoon's body, for his small touches, his soft whispers.

"Do you know," Junkyu began, "why fairy tales always end with a. . . happy ending?"

"Why?" He heard Jihoon whisper to his hair.

"Because the writer," said Junkyu, "or the director. . . they. . . they know when to stop the story. And they stop. . . they stop right when all is well. They stop when the moment is beautiful."

Junkyu's throat hurt now from holding back his sobs.

"And what we have," he went on to say, just as a bead of tears rolled down his cheek, then he chuckled, "I think it's beautiful."

"Don't go," whispered Jihoon.

Junkyu blinked his tears away. But his eyes kept welling up now. 

The thing was. . . a part of him had already left.

  
  


Standing by the door of his mom’s house, Junkyu looked up from his watch and looked out into the snow-laden street. It was half past nine in the evening now, but Jihoon still hadn’t arrived. 

“Junkyu-hyung.”

Junkyu turned, and he saw his brother there, standing behind him, bowl in hands.

“Why are you. . . are you still waiting for Jihoon-hyung?”

“Yeah,” said Junkyu, arms wrapped around himself. 

“Did you try calling him?"

Junkyu hadn’t. When he’d left Jihoon’s apartment, the latter had promised him he would come, and with how emotional their talk went earlier, Junkyu was afraid to hear Jihoon’s voice over the phone. He was afraid to hear the trace of sadness, the masked resentment. 

And he just really wanted to leave to Jihoon the choice, telling himself that if Jihoon chose not to come, Junkyu should understand, because he had basically just. . . _ended_ things.

_Come, Jihoon. Give me a sign. Help me decide._

“Hyung?”

Junkyu blinked. “Oh, yeah. Um. . . don’t worry about me, Doyoung,” he winked at his brother, “they need you there. I’ll catch up in a minute.”

“Alright, hyung,” smiled his brother.

Junkyu fished out his phone. He pulled up his contacts, then stared at Jihoon’s name. Junkyu licked his lips.

He hit the ‘Call’ sign.

With trepidation, Junkyu listened to it ring. As he waited, he began to unconsciously bite his nail. 

Jihoon picked up at the sixth ring. “Hello?” he said, “Junkyu?”

Junkyu swallowed. “Jihoon,” he began, “where. . . Are you still coming?”

“I. . . actually, I am on the way, Kyu, but I. . . Well, truth is. . . I can’t face your family, Kyu. I’m too. . . I look messed up right now.”

Junkyu frowned. “What do you mean?” he said. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” said Jihoon. “Just. . . can we meet instead?”

“I don’t think there’s much cabs going about at this hour, Jihoon,” said Junkyu, “it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I can come and get you,” said Jihoon, “I borrowed Yoshi’s bike.”

“Wait, are you driving right now?”

“No,” replied Jihoon immediately, “I’m in front of a café.”

“Which café?”

Junkyu thought he could see Jihoon smile. “Treasure Café,” said Jihoon. 

Junkyu went quiet. He was thinking. Finally he said, “Okay. I’m coming.”

“You want me to—”

“No,” said Junkyu, “I can get a cab.”

“Okay.”

“Oka—”

“I love you. ”

Junkyu blinked. Then he smiled. Would it hurt for him to say it back? Maybe. But he could deal with that later. "I love you."

  
  


The cab pulled over just across the café and as he paid, Junkyu caught a glimpse of Jihoon slightly leaning at the bike. Hopping out of the cab, he frowned. The café was actually opened.

He looked from left to right before crossing. 

When he reached the curb by which Jihoon had parked his bike, he looked inquiringly at Jihoon, who smiled at him.

"I can't believe it's ope—" Junkyu did a double take. He frowned at one of the occupants inside. Then his face cleared and his eyes widened. "Hyunsuk-hyung?"

And as if Hyunsuk heard him, he turned and, smiling big, he sat up straight and waved at Junkyu. 

Junkyu let out a laugh, then waved back. He then turned to look at Jihoon. "What is this? Why are you guys here?"

Jihoon was just smiling, his eyes—like Hyunsuk's—almost disappearing as he did so. That was also when Junkyu noticed that Jihoon's eyes were somewhat swollen, a little bloodshot.

"Come on," said Jihoon, taking his hand.

"Wait," said Junkyu. He made Jihoon face him. "Did you. . . Are you sure you're not dru—"

"No," said Jihoon, then smiling shyly, "I cried."

Junkyu blinked. He didn't know what to say. And Jihoon seemed to have picked this up because he chuckled at Junkyu then pulled him to the café.

Once inside, Junkyu hugged Hyunsuk, genuinely happy to see him there. "Hyung," said Junkyu, "I thought you went home for Christmas."

"I was there this morning," said Hyunsuk, "until this afternoon, even. But you know, I've got a wife here and all."

Junkyu made a face. "Wife?"

It was Jihoon who laughed and said, "He's way over his head. I doubt the girl even knows they're a _thing_."

"Shut up, man," said Hyunsuk, but still smiling, "it's serious. She knows I'm serious."

Junkyu was still in shock. But he just shook his head and said, "Well. . . I'm so happy for you, hyung."

"Thanks, Junkyu," smiled Hyunsuk.

"I can't believe you kept it a secret," said Junkyu.

"Because he wasn't sure until recently," said Jihoon, grinning.

"Shut it, Jihoon," said Hyunsuk, "that's not true."

Still smiling, Junkyu went on to say, "And I can't believe this café is actually open." He turned to look around him and saw a group of students and a middle-aged man sitting quietly at their table.

"Well," said Hyunsuk, "some people actually don't celebrate Christmas, Kyu."

"Oh," said Junkyu. Then, "you guys should have come by the house. There—"

"I can't with these," said Jihoon, pointing both fingers at his eyes.

Hyunsuk laughed. 

"What's wrong with them?" laughed Junkyu.

"I'll go get the coffees," said Hyunsuk, standing up. "Same, right?"

"Actually," said Junkyu, "can I have mine cold, hyung?"

Hyunsuk made a face but then he smiled, "Okay, weirdo."

Junkyu laughed. Then he turned to look at Jihoon beside him, whose arm was placed at the back of the seat, his fingers brushing Junkyu's shoulder.

"What's the matter?" Junkyu asked.

Jihoon only looked at him. Then he brushed Junkyu’s bangs. And Junkyu was sure he was just opening his mouth when he—surprising Junkyu—sobbed.

"Jihoon, wha—"

But Jihoon buried his face at the nook of Junkyu's neck. And started crying. Junkyu wanted to glance behind him, to see if someone was watching, but he realized he didn't care anymore. Just then he caught Hyunsuk's eyes, who, upon seeing Jihoon, looked as shocked as Junkyu.

"Jihoon," said Junkyu, placing one hand over Jihoon's head, "you—what's wrong."

Jihoon removed his head from Junkyu's neck, sniffing. He put his hand over Junkyu's head, then ruffled his hair, "I'm happy for you," he said, then sniffed again. Then he smiled. A genuine smile.

Junkyu smiled back. “Thank you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon took Junkyu’s hand, looking at them as if he was memorizing something. Then he looked up at Junkyu through half-lidded eyes. Leaning closer that their noses were almost rubbing, Jihoon whispered, “I love you.”

Junkyu could have melted right there, and if he had been standing, he knew his knees would have just easily given up. He was just opening his mouth to say the L word back when Hyunsuk reappeared, then started teasing Jihoon.

And whatever it was that needed to be said disappeared into the air, but Junkyu decided it was better that way. It was better not to make any promises. For now, he took pleasure at the sight in front of him—at seeing two of the most important men in his life happy. One last time. 

**_Four Months Later_ **

Standing beside his mom in the airport, Jihoon waited with apprehension. He kept fidgeting. 

“Are you okay?” He heard his mother ask.

He looked at her. “Of course,” he said, “why would I not be, mom?”

His mother only smiled at him, cupping his cheek. 

Just then the passengers had started swarming in, and Jihoon’s heart started hammering against his chest. 

Then his mother exclaimed, “There he is, Jihoon!”

Jihoon looked at his mother, then toward where his mother was pointing. And Jihoon saw him. 

And he felt the connection like an electric current.

Jihoon looked at his mother, then jokingly said, “He looks like me.”

His mother laughed at him, “Of course,” he said, “he’s your father.”

Meanwhile, in London, standing in front of an eager team inside the Board Room for almost an hour now, Junkyu ranted some more and, when the impassive people in front of him had stopped responding, dismissed the meeting.

Once everybody was out, Junkyu checked his phone and saw he had at least six missed calls. From Jihoon. Smiling, Junkyu walked to stand in front of the glass window overlooking the city. He called Jihoon back.

Jihoon picked up at the second ring. Junkyu held back a smile. 

“Kyu?”

“What’s with the flood calls?”

Junkyu heard a laugh from the other line. 

“Kyu,” said Jihoon, “I saw my father again.”

Genuinely surprised, Junkyu’s eyes widened. “Oh my god,” he exclaimed, “Jihoon, I’m. . . really?”

There was a pause, and Junkyu was imagining Jihoon to be smiling, “Yeah,” said Jihoon, “finally.”

“What happened. . .” but Junkyu stopped. Jihoon would tell him when he was ready. Junkyu took a deep breath, then said, “I’m really happy for you, Jihoon. If you need to talk about it, you know I’m here.”

“I know, Kyu.”

Silence.

Junkyu cleared his throat to say something but Jihoon beat him to it. “Kyu,” he said, and Junkyu thought he was hearing a boy and not a man with how Jihoon sounded, “I think. . . I think I just opened my heart.”

He didn’t know why, but it made Junkyu feel both happy and sad. He pondered quickly on it. He was happy to know that Jihoon had finally opened himself, totally. And he was sad that he couldn’t be there to see his face. To see the Jihoon that Junkyu believed in—and loved.

Junkyu allowed a smile on his face, “I’m very. . . happy to hear that, Jihoon,” he said quietly, “very.”

“Kyu,” said Jihoon suddenly, “they’re calling me. We’re going out for lunch.”

“Oh,” said Junkyu, blinking, “of course, I. . .”

“I’ll call you later,” said Jihoon, “is that okay?”

Junkyu smiled secretly. _I want that_. “Of course,” he said. 

“Bye.”

“Bye,” said Junkyu.

The call ended.

Junkyu sighed. He looked outside, into the vast city with a sea of castle-like buildings, above which birds flew in flock. Their wings were as white as the sky, and they fluttered fast. And free.

Junkyu looked at his reflection on the glass window, then for some reason, he thought he saw Jihoon’s face reflected on it, replacing his, smiling at him.

A smile crept on Junkyu’s lips. Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the room, feeling, for the first time in forever, as light as a feather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you want to kill me, but you can't. I'm already dead inside.
> 
> T.T T.T T.T
> 
> Thank you for sticking with Angsty Junkyu and Jihoon till the very end. I am seriously speechless right now. This was just so real to me. Writing this was really an emotional experience. I know that some of u may have different expectations, but u guys, when I first wrote this I wanted the characters to embark on a journey of not only romance but more importantly, self-discovery.
> 
> Because one cannot fully give herself/himself to someone when she/he is incomplete. 
> 
> Love u<333
> 
> XOXO,  
> Meadea.


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